


our hearts are heavy burdens (we shouldn't have to bear alone)

by lazyfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2019-10-19 22:05:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 40,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17609894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: Bobbi Morse has been recently orphaned and crowned queen, and isn't looking for anything to make her life more complicated. Her council wants to marry her off, but she's more interested in making sure the queendom of Codea doesn't fall to foreign powers. The months after meeting Lance Hunter are tumultuous as the political landscape shifts and decades-old secrets come to light. When everything is said and done, the world will never be the same.





	1. of beginnings and bargaining

The antechamber is uncomfortably warm. The temperature is the least of Bobbi’s problems.  
  
They’re trying to marry her off, again.  
  
“Your Majesty, I mean no offense -” that means offense is, indeed, intended “- but it’s hardly proper for you to be ruling alone.”  
  
“I was unaware that ruling a kingdom requires a consort.”  
  
“It doesn't,” Duke Talbot blusters, flushing. “But the, uh... creation of heirs does.” Every face in the room changes to a different shade of pink, save for the women’s. For people so intent on ensuring that Bobbi has a child, the noblemen are straight-laced when it comes to talking about the acts that would lead to said child.  
  
“I have plenty of time to find a suitable husband,” Bobbi dismisses. “I’d rather spend our time and resources on other endeavors, not superfluous parties.” The queendom isn't in dire financial straits, but it has seen better days. Trade has slowed since the death of her parents, and Bobbi doesn’t want to waste the money they do have.  
  
“Majesty,” always with the arguing, these ones, “all we ask is one ball.”  
  
Compromise. Her parents had always told her that compromise was the key to ruling a queendom. What harm would one ball do?  
  
Bobbi nodded once. “One. And I must remind you all, while your advice is welcome and heeded, the final decision on who will be my husband is mine. _Only_ mine.” There are many perils of being a young queen, but chief among them is nobles who believe she's a puppet to be manipulated. Her mother had been fiercely independent, and Bobbi looked to follow in her footsteps. She hadn’t realized how hard that path would be to walk now that she was alone.    
  
The nobles at the table all nod. Duchesses Palamas and Rodriguez are on Bobbi’s side - they didn’t believe the queen needed a consort. They had both assumed control of their families' duchies before marrying. They knew a woman could rule without a man. Everyone else seems relieved that Bobbi had agreed to the ball at all.  
  
Duke Talbot is still sour-faced, as is Duke Gonazles, and Bobbi sighs to herself. Both of the men are getting on in age, but Talbot’s heir is still young, and Gonzales has none. She’ll have to work with them both for the forseeable future. That means she needs to get them on her side, which is more easily said than done. She can be charming and competent all she wants, but both men respected her mother, and Bobbi can’t be her.  
  
“We’ll resume tomorrow,” Bobbi announces. “You’re dismissed.” The noblemen and women file out of the antechamber, leaving behind nothing but the stench of their bodies and a general sense of discontent.  
  
Bobbi’s waiting to be alone, but it’s a pleasure she’s not afforded. Instead Duchess Rodriguez stops beside her, brown eyes wide and searching.  
  
“You’re not pleased,” Elena says.  
  
“Of course I’m not,” Bobbi sighs in return. “I don’t like losing.” Maybe this is a compromise, but it feels like a loss. Bobbi feels nothing short of incompetent, despite having spent her entire life preparing for the moment she would take the throne. Her court was thrown into chaos by the sudden deaths of her parents. Even now that there’s some semblance of normalcy, everything is different. Agendas and allegiances changed, and now Bobbi’s left with a web of secrets and lies that’s all too easy to get tangled in.  
  
“None of us do,” Elena agrees. She strokes a wisp of hair back from Bobbi’s face, and the young queen takes a moment to appreciate that the duchess, known for her fire and temper, is so gentle with her. She needs softness now more than ever.  
  
Bobbi’s in the midst of deciding whether or not she ought to open up the emotional floodgates when there’s a knock on the door.  
  
“Your Majesty?” It’s the voice of her lady-in-waiting, Jemma.  
  
“Come in, Jemma,” Bobbi answers, glancing towards Elena. The duchess doesn’t make a move to leave, and Bobbi’s glad for it. Jemma tries her best, but sometimes her curiosity over the happenings of the court gets the better of her, and she asks questions that Bobbi doesn’t particularly want to answer.  
  
Jemma steps through the door, bobbing in a perfunctory curtsy towards Bobbi and Elena. “Dinner’s waiting in your chambers.”  
  
The queen reads the look on her lady’s face and sighs. “But there’s something else.” Wasn’t there always?  
  
Jemma ducks her head. “Sir Mackenzie wishes to speak with you.”  
  
Elena brightens beside her, and Bobbi nods to Jemma. The head of the palace guard rarely requests audience with her, at least not on official matters. When he calls, she answers.  
  
“He’s in the throne room, no?” Elena asks. Naturally she would know her beloved’s schedule, Bobbi thinks with an amused smile.  
  
Jemma nods in affirmation.  
  
“If it’s not too much of a trouble, I would like to accompany you,” Elena says.  
  
“And me, as well,” Jemma requests. Bobbi’s not much good at saying no to either of them, so she acquiesces. The pair flank her as they begin their journey to the throne room, Elena on her right and Jemma on her left.  
  
There’s not much time for silence before Jemma strikes up a conversation. “Princess Daisy of Clipeum is due to arrive tomorrow.”  
  
“I remember.” Bobbi has to bite back a sigh. “Hopefully everyone will behave themselves while she’s here.” She isn’t sure she’s capable of wrangling the courtiers while also trying to play hostess; it seems like there’s too much to do and too little time to do it in. Now that there’s a ball in the mix as well, things are bound to be even more hectic.  
  
Elena barks out a laugh. “You are much more optimistic than I am.”  
  
“I do believe this is the first time anyone’s called our queen an optimist,” Jemma teases.  
  
“You’re one to talk, Miss Simmons,” Bobbi returns with a sly smile. “What was it you were lecturing me on this morning? Making sure that the princess doesn’t prove herself another person trying to pull my strings?”  
  
“She’s right,” Elena adds in earnest. “We’d like -”  
  
“To remain free of foreign meddling, yes,” Bobbi finishes. “I do listen in those endless meetings.”  
  
Elena’s eyes flash, but she doesn’t respond further. It’s probably for the better - Bobbi hadn’t intended her tone to turn so sharp. It’s not good form to be seen arguing with one of her duchesses in the middle of a corridor.  
  
“Will Princess Daisy be invited to the ball?” Jemma asks, distracting from the slight tension crackling in the air.  
  
“Of course,” Bobbi answers. “I’m going to see if I can spin it to be just as much about her arrival as my getting married.”  
  
“They won’t like that,” Elena warns.  
  
“They haven’t liked a thing I’ve had to say yet. Why bother starting now?”  
  
Elena laughs, as does Jemma, but they all understand that if Bobbi is to remain in power, eventually she’s going to have to start pleasing the nobles. She doesn’t want to have to deal with a coup, even an unsuccessful one.  
  
“You’ll be attending as well, Jemma,” Bobbi announces.  
  
“That’s hardly proper -”  
  
“I’m queen.” Bobbi interrupts. “I get what I want, at least in matters like these. You’re coming.”  
  
“Better not to argue on this,” Elena advises Jemma, even though Jemma’s already reached that conclusion herself. Bobbi’s stubbornness isn’t infamous for no reason.  
  
“I’m quite interested in seeing what elaborate plan you’re going to install in to allow me into the ballroom, but by all means…” Jemma waves her hand vaguely.  
  
“It’s not all that elaborate, darling,” Bobbi says with a knowing smile. “But I’m not going to tell you.”  
  
“Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead,” Elena intones drily. “I’d rather not know than be beheaded, wouldn’t you?” She directs the latter part of her question to Jemma, who nods in complete agreement.  
  
“I haven’t beheaded anyone yet.” Bobbi sticks her nose into the air. She doesn’t intend to be the sort of queen who harms first and asks questions later. As far as she’s concerned, the only offense that deserves the death penalty is treason. Even then she’d rather keep the traitors imprisoned so she could better understand their motivations.  
  
“But you have at least _thought_ about beheading Talbot, right?”  
  
“Who hasn’t thought about beheading Talbot?” Jemma grumbles. She doesn’t have to work with the duke, but she’s served him various meals when he ate with Bobbi.  
  
“I haven’t!” Bobbi insists. “...at least, not today.” (That's a lie, too, but Elena and Jemma needn’t know it.)  
  
“Perhaps the princess will have some advice for how to keep from beheading your nobles,” Jemma suggests.  
  
“I don’t need advice!” Bobbi says indignantly. “I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?” She doubts that the princess will have much to say in that avenue, anyways. Daisy hasn’t yet assumed any official responsibilities as the heir to the throne of Clipeum. Bobbi has a feeling it has to do more with her parents wanting to protect her than any reticence on the princess’s part, but that’s all hearsay.  
  
The trio stops in front of the entrance to the throne room. Jemma waits outside while Bobbi and Elena enter. It takes them a moment to see Mack, who’s reading a paper that a page handed to him.  
  
“Mack,” Bobbi greets.  
  
“Barbara,” he returns. Bobbi rolls her eyes at the use of her given name, but at least he hasn’t ‘Your Majesty’ed her to death like everyone else. “Elena,” Mack says, reaching to touch his betrothed on the shoulder gently. Bobbi forces herself not to roll her eyes again - it’s like they think she doesn’t know they’re set to marry come springtime.  
  
“What’s the issue?” she asks, stomach grumbling to remind her that dinner was on the other side of this conversation.  
  
“Why do you assume there’s an issue?”  
  
“There’s always an issue, Mack.” It’s one of the givens of running a queendom: as soon as one problem disappears, another emerges. Sometimes new problems appear before the old ones are even resolved.  
  
“Alright, you got me,” Mack grumbles. “But I have good news as well.”  
  
“Bad news first,” Bobbi sighs. Good news could wait, but bad news was time-sensitive. Her gaze flicks to Elena. Bobbi trusts the duchess, but she’d rather control the flow of information to her counsel. Now Elena is a possible leak. She can’t ask Elena to leave, though, especially not in Mack’s presence. Hopefully whatever Mack has to say isn’t too damning.  
  
“There’s been some movement on the border with Ceterum. Not enough to suggest an immediate attack, but…”  
  
“But Garrett’s posturing,” Bobbi guesses. Mack nods.  
  
“I’d like your permission to move some of the guards from the border with Aurelie to strengthen our defenses. Make sure Garrett doesn’t get any ideas.” Elena’s obviously paying attention now; her duchy is on the border with Aurelie, and the decision Bobbi makes will impact her.  
  
“Has there been any movement in the forest?” Mack fixes Bobbi with a look that could kill when she finishes asking the question.  
  
“When has there ever been any movement in the forest?” he asks. It’s a fair question. No one has seen an Aurelian for twenty years. Bobbi couldn’t remember a time when the queendom of Aurelie had been anything less than reclusive, and her parents had been surprisingly tight-lipped about their neighbors; everyone had been. Still, the question was worth asking, especially with Elena’s sharp eyes on her.  
  
“Move them. I don’t want to be dealing with Garrett trying anything.” If the neighboring king was going to flex his muscles, then Bobbi was going to flex hers right back. She didn’t want anyone thinking she was weak because she was young - or worse, because she was a woman. Garrett should’ve known that already, given that Bobbi’s mother was queen before her, but Bobbi is a bit sore on the subject of her femininity in a world surrounded by kings determined to prove themselves the most masculine.  
  
“Onto the good news,” Mack says, seeming to sense Bobbi’s tension. “Arrangements have already been made for security for the ball.”  
  
“It’s been five minutes!” Bobbi huffs.  
  
“I told him it was a possibility,” Elena admits. “It is a lot of work.” It’s fair, but Bobbi’s still uncomfortable with how much information seems to be travelling without her knowing. Bobbi just wants to get everything under control, but it seems that’s unlikely to happen.  
  
“I had a plan drawn up before she told me,” Mack adds. Bobbi isn’t sure whether that’s true or he’s trying to defend Elena. Either way, it’s happened now and there’s nothing she can do about it - or about the ball.  
  
So Bobbi pouts. She’s sure she doesn’t look queenly with the expression on her face, but she’s been trying so hard to seem queenly non-stop, and she needs a break.  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Mack says, waving a hand at her irreverently as Elena hides a chuckle behind her hand. “Everyone’s already making bets on whether you’ll find your husband.”  
  
“Are you?” Bobbi asks with an arched eyebrow. She’s not going to look at Elena, because she knows the duchess is smirking.  
  
“Barbara, _I_ think people should be making bets on how many men you’re going to murder that night.” Bobbi manages a smile at that.  
  
“Why is everyone thinking I’m going to go on a murder spree?” Bobbi asks, more to herself than Mack. First the talk of beheading Talbot, and now this! “Besides, I don’t need to murder anyone. That’s what I have you for.”  
  
“The guards aren’t supposed to murder people, either,” Mack protests.  
  
“But you would, if I asked you.” Bobbi flutters her eyelashes at Mack.  
  
“There are very few things in this world I wouldn’t do if you asked, Your Majesty.” Mack’s sincerity sends a cold shiver up Bobbi’s spine, and the teasing conversation is now made serious.  
  
“Which is why I don’t ask,” Bobbi answers. The amount of power she holds over her queendom and its citizens still unnerves her. That's why she’s spent the last two months learning how to use it responsibly.  
  
“I know.” Mack claps her on the shoulder. “You should go eat.” Bobbi has no doubt that Mack worries about her eating habits, but she suspects he has an ulterior motive. It's hard for him and Elena to get time together, and she's the last obstacle between them and their alone time.  
  
Bobbi nods, retreating from the throne room and returning to Jemma. She informs her friend that Elena won’t be joining them, and they set off in the direction they came from. They spend the rest of the walk to Bobbi’s chambers talking of the ball. Though she hates to admit it, Bobbi is almost excited - not to find a husband, but to see the looks on everyone’s faces when she rejects every advance that’s made.  
  
Maybe it won’t be so bad after all.


	2. of plagues and princesses

The entire castle is buzzing with news of the ball, but that’s at the back of Bobbi’s mind now. She’s spent the entire morning in the throne room, waiting for the announcement of Princess Daisy’s arrival. It wouldn’t do for the visiting princess not to be greeted by someone of her own status.

Bobbi’s nervous. Princess Daisy’s parents, King Phillip and Queen Melinda, were rulers that she had always respected for their compassion and generosity. Their kingdom had been aligned with Bobbi’s queendom for generations. Ensuring that the relationship between her and her neighbors stayed good was imperative, especially with John Garrett’s recent ascent to power and his general unwillingness to cooperate with her - or with anyone else, for that matter.

A plague had wiped out the vast majority of nobility in the kingdom of Ceterum, which Garrett now ruled. It was the same plague that had killed Bobbi’s parents, but she resents that members of every stratum of society seem to think that the same plague making them rulers somehow binds them together.

Bobbi doesn’t trust Garrett. Even when he had been nothing more than a duke (albeit an important one), he had given her the impression of someone who was willing to do anything to get ahead. Ambition didn’t think ambition was inherently bad, but Garrett seemed not to care who got hurt so long as he got his way. If it hadn’t been sickness that had wiped out the Ceteran royal family, Bobbi would have suspected that Garrett had engineered it all to improve his own position.

But even if  _ she _ doesn’t trust John Garrett, Phil Coulson does. That means Bobbi was going to have to hold her tongue around the visiting princess, lest Daisy carry word of Bobbi’s suspicions back to the king. Even the most innocuous of comments can be damning.

Trumpets sound, and Bobbi snaps to attention. The princess is here.

“Her Royal Highness, Princess Daisy of Clipeum,” the herald announces as the doors to the throne room swing open.

Princess Daisy looks different than Bobbi remembered. Her dark hair is  lightened with sun and chopped shorter than is the fashion. It suits her, though, drawing more attention to her warm brown eyes and bright smile. Even though the princess is only three years her junior, she exudes youth in a way that makes Bobbi feel practically ancient.

“Your Majesty,” Daisy says, curtsying when she reaches Bobbi’s throne.

“Your Highness,” Bobbi returns, rising and curtsying slightly less deeply than the princess. She needs to show respect, of course, but Bobbi was constantly reminded that she outranked everyone now - even Daisy. 

They go through the rest of the drudgery of Daisy’s attaché being announced, as is appropriate, but in due time the princess and the queen are allowed to leave, retiring to Bobbi’s private chambers with no company except for Jemma (and the guards stationed outside the door, but Bobbi did her best to ignore those).

“Princess, if I may introduce my handmaiden, Miss Simmons,” Bobbi says, nodding to Jemma.

“Pleasure,” Daisy says, dipping her head.

Jemma curtsies. “I assure you, the pleasure is all mine.”

Bobbi blinks at the statement and the blush spread on Jemma’s cheeks, but doesn’t acknowledge either any further. 

“Before we begin, on behalf of my parents and myself, my condolences.” Daisy reaches out a hand and lays it on Bobbi’s arm. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be to have lost both of your parents so suddenly, and we regret not having been able to attend the funerals.”

Bobbi tries not to think about it - how she had gone from being a relatively care-free princess to an orphaned queen in less than a fortnight as the plague swept through Codea. She almost wishes Daisy hadn’t said anything, but Bobbi musters a sad smile nonetheless. 

“Thank you,” Bobbi murmurs. “But please, try not to feel bad. I know it’s a long journey.” There was more than the journey to consider, as well - coming to a country that had been struck by sickness was risky. At the time, the risk of carrying the disease back to Clipeum had likely been too high to justify a visit, even to pay respects.

“How did you fare on your way?” Bobbi asks, changing the subject as Jemma pours them tea. 

“The weather was pleasant and the roads clear,” Daisy responds. “We were fortunate.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Bobbi lifts her teacup to her lips, sipping once before replacing it in its saucer. “Your parents tell me they wish for you to learn more about the responsibilities of a queen. If I may ask, why couldn’t you have done that from home?”

“They say they want me to learn about my responsibilities,” Daisy begins, “but I think they’re really worried about the prejudices I’ll face. Especially since my father had to kick up a fuss to put me in the line of succession in the first place.”

Bobbi smiles wryly. The fact that King Phillip had petitioned with such vigor to allow his daughter to inherit his throne was one of the numerous reasons she likes the man so much. “I’m sure this will come as absolutely no surprise to you, but the men are not used to listening to a woman’s word whatsoever.”

Daisy chuckles. “No, not surprising at all.”

“There’s also an obsession with when I’ll choose a consort and fall pregnant,” Bobbi confides, wrinkling her nose. Daisy mirrors the motion, evidently finding the idea just as distasteful.

“The ball, Your Majesty,” Jemma reminds Bobbi while it’s relevant to the conversation.

“Thank you, Jemma,” the queen says before returning her gaze to the princess. “In three days’ time, there will be a ball held, in honor of your arrival but also in hopes that I’ll find a suitable partner.” Bobbi holds back a sigh. “I hope you’ve brought something to wear? If not, I’m sure I can find something that will fit you.” She’s already searching for a dress that would be suitable for Jemma, who’s more similar to Daisy’s build than Bobbi is, anyways.

“I’ll find something,” Daisy says with a nod. 

“And, returning to your question about prejudices… I’m afraid that there’s little more I can offer. We’ve always been a queendom, and women have always been allowed to hold title here. Some aren’t used to listening to a woman, but when I remind them I’m their queen, they  _ will _ listen. I’m sure that with the change of the line of succession, you may be fighting those who challenge your legitimacy to sit on the throne at all.” Bobbi’s a little afraid of her own candor, but if the princess wanted the truth, she would get the truth.

“That’s what my father is afraid of as well,” Daisy sighs. “We’re making plans, of course, but…”

“The best-laid plans can fall apart,” Bobbi finishes. She’s seen that all too well. “If you face challengers, I hope you won’t hesitate to call on Codea. I trust your father’s judgement.” If King Phillip thought that his daughter was fit for the throne, then Bobbi would defend that claim - and not only because it would gain her favor in the eyes of the new queen.

“And he trusts yours.” Daisy’s voice has gained the smooth veneer of someone used to speaking politics. Bobbi hopes the change wasn’t to disguise a lie, but she knows better than to take what Daisy says at face value. Even if their conversation has thus far been personal, they’re still both monarchs. Daisy’s lack of public responsibility is obviously not because of lack of political savvy.

“I should hope to visit Clipeum sometime in the near future to meet with him.” Bobbi sips her tea again, but even in the short period she’s neglected it it’s become lukewarm and altogether unappealing. It would be unwise to leave her queendom now, but she hopes in the future it’ll be stable enough that she can afford that sort of visit.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” Daisy looks around the chamber. “I’m rather tired of talking business. If I recall from my last visit, you have a rather impressive garden. Would it be too much of an imposition to ask to see it?”

“Not at all.” Bobbi’s relieved to altogether abandon the political discussion for the day. It would be easier to weave negotiations in between other subjects, rather than sit down and grind through every miniscule detail that she needed to discuss with the visiting princess. Daisy’s supposed to stay until the end of the month, anyways - they had time.

“Is it alright if Jemma attends us? She’s quite the botanist, and I’m afraid I’m not nearly as skilled as she at naming the plants,” Bobbi says sheepishly as they prepare for their promenade.  

“Of course.” Daisy turns to address Jemma. “Are you a scientist? My father hosted a T’cosian engineer for quite some time. He was -” Daisy bites her lip, perhaps thinking better than to say whatever word had been her first choice. “He was interesting.” That seems to be her compromise to keep from saying something rude. 

“No, just a servant,” Jemma demurs.

“But she’s got a brilliant brain,” Bobbi interjects. “She just won’t leave me alone for some reason,” she teases.

“I don’t trust anyone else to look after you properly,” Jemma sniffs.

Daisy giggles. “Is she really that difficult?”

“I’m not  _ difficult _ ,” Bobbi says before Jemma can get in a word edgewise. “Jemma’s just paranoid.”

“Whatever you say, Majesty.” Jemma over enunciates the last word, just to annoy Bobbi, who pointedly ignores her.

“Shall we, Your Highness?” Bobbi asks, extending an arm to Daisy. 

“Just Daisy is fine when we’re alone,” the princess says. “And for you as well, Jemma.”

Bobbi’s heart feels warm at the inclusion of her friend. “Bobbi is my preferred address in private,” she informs her guest.

Daisy smiles, and the earlier apprehension Bobbi had felt begins to melt away.

She has a feeling she and Daisy are going to be friends.

\---

Jemma and Bobbi return to her chambers late that night, having spent the better part of the afternoon in the gardens with Daisy. Bobbi hadn’t been blind to the careful looks Jemma had been giving Daisy when she thought no one was looking.

So, Bobbi asks Jemma a question.

“What do you think of Princess Daisy?”

“She seems nice,” Jemma responds, almost too quickly. Her fair skin begins to pinken slightly, and that’s more of an answer than Jemma’s words.

“And?” Bobbi presses, just in case Jemma decide she wants to share her feelings.

“And… she’s nice.” Jemma repeats. “You know, you’re much better at reading people than me.”

Bobbi hums in agreement. Jemma, for all of her perceptiveness about the world, can sometimes be blind when it comes to other people. She’s also avoiding Bobbi’s real question, but Bobbi’s willing to entertain the more political side of the conversation for a little longer. “But you once thought that she was dangerous.”

“I said it was a possibility.” Jemma corrects. “After meeting her, I think it would be foolish to doubt her good intentions, especially given how few people you can trust.”

“Your change of heart has nothing to do with having seen the princess?” Bobbi presses, steering them back towards her original curiosity.

“I have no idea what you’re saying,” Jemma tosses her hair over her shoulder primly even as her cheeks darken to crimson. 

Bobbi decides to let the issue drop. Jemma knows how she feels about those sorts of things - Bobbi’s never been shy in her affections for the fairer sex, at least not in private. Publicly, she is all but required to court men exclusively, since producing an heir is paramount.

Maybe Bobbi’s wrong to be reading anything more into Jemma’s interactions with Daisy than friendship, but she also wants desperately to keep her friend safe. She can’t do that if Jemma is unwilling to admit her crush.

They bid each other good night soon after. As always, Bobbi is kept up much too late by her own worries - worries she’ll have to face again when morning comes.


	3. of ballgowns and boys

Bobbi stands in the entrance hall, resisting the urge to wipe her sweaty palms on her ballgown. She’s trying to look regal, but she feels the same way she did when she first attended an official event after coming of age - like a child playing dress-up. 

But Bobbi Morse is not afraid of anything, and it’s ridiculous to let herself become so anxious over something as simple as a ball. She’ll dance with whomever asks her to until the wee hours of the morning and she’ll declare all of them unfit to be her husband; then her life can move on, and she can think about more important things.

Not that thinking about important things has been easy. The nobles still squabble incessantly, and Garrett continues to make her uneasy with his constant military movement on the border. Above all else, though, Bobbi has to be calm and collected. Worrying is just another item on the list of behaviors that make her seem weak.

She rolls her shoulders back, tilting her chin up just a fraction. It makes her feel better - more powerful and in control. The guests are still filing in as they’re announced, but they’re down to the minor barons, which means the music will be striking up soon.

Bobbi catches Daisy’s eye from across the ballroom, and the princess rolls her eyes dramatically as yet another baron is announced. Bobbi stifles a laugh, forcing it to become a cordial smile at the Baron of… wherever he’s from. Bobbi’s long since given up on trying to remember every minor lord and lady. Maybe in time she’ll memorize them all, but after two months on the throne, she doesn’t think anyone expects perfection from her.

“Now presenting Sir Lance Hunter, knight of Her Royal Majesty Queen Isabelle of Aurelie.”

A murmur ripples through the crowd, and Bobbi hardy believes her eyes. The man in front of her is not as finely dressed as most of the other attendees and his stubble is scruffy, but he doesn’t need to be well-dressed or well-groomed for every eye in the room to be on him. The crest of the royal house of Aurelie is embroidered on his tunic in silver thread, and it’s enough of a statement on its own.

“Your Majesty,” the knight says, bowing to her. His accent is different, and it occurs to Bobbi that she doesn’t remember ever hearing an Aurelian speak before.

“Sir Hunter,” Bobbi responds with an acknowledging nod. She’s horribly curious as to the reason behind his presence, but she can hardly ask him now. She has other duties.

Sir Hunter is apparently the last in the line of guests, and Bobbi gives a short welcoming speech before gesturing for the band to strike up. They begin playing a lively song to start the festivities.

Bobbi’s chagrined, but not surprised, when nobles begin orbiting around her, each vying for the first dance of the night. She’s about to pick a random one when she sees a familiar face near the back of the mass.

“Duke Triplett!” Bobbi greets warmly. People part in front of her, leaving a clear path to him.

“Your Majesty,” he greets with a bow. “May I?” He offers his hand to her, and Bobbi takes it gratefully. She’s going to dance with everyone eventually, but she’d rather not start with having her toes stepped on. She knows Trip is an excellent dancer.

“It’s good to see you,” Bobbi says warmly as she and Trip begin to dance. “I wasn’t sure you’d be able to make it.” Trip hailed from Ceterum, and while his family was powerful long ago, when Garrett became king they enjoyed even higher status. If Bobbi isn’t mistaken (and she isn’t), Trip was third in line for the throne of Ceterum, behind only Garrett’s protégé and an elder cousin of Trip’s. It’s a shame, Bobbi thinks; she’d much rather have Trip as king.

“And you as well,” Trip said, grinning widely. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, girl.” From anyone else’s lips, the word would have sounded condescending, but Trip couldn’t insult someone if he tried; he was just that charming. 

“Should I worry that you’re seeking my hand in marriage?” Bobbi asks, glad that their location at the center of the dance floor makes it difficult for anyone to eavesdrop over the din.

“What do you think?” Trip asks. They both laugh, and begin to chatter about various going-ons as they dance. They’ve been friends for so long that the notion of marrying Trip seems just as strange to Bobbi as marrying Mack, or her brother, would. It had become increasingly more difficult to keep in touch as they both grew up (that was a common pattern, she was noticing), but Bobbi still appreciates having a confidante who’s more objective about matters of the court than Jemma or Elena. 

Speaking of Jemma… “When we finish, would you please ask Miss Simmons for a dance?” Bobbi pleads. “She’s not going to peel herself off the wall unless someone asks her.”

“Anything for you,” Trip says. Bobbi smiles her thanks, but the smile fades along with the last notes of the song.

“Back into the fray,” Trip says, giving her a gentle nudge. “Good luck.”

He heads towards Jemma, but Bobbi’s surprised to see that Jemma is already dancing with someone else - the knight from Aurelie. They appear to be having a rather intense conversation, and Bobbi’s curiosity about the knight becomes even sharper as she wonders what on earth he would have to speak to Jemma about.

She’s not able to cut in, though, because too many others are vying for her attention. Everyone knows this is their best chance at gaining her favor and a chance at her hand, and they’re predictably eager to impress. Some succeed in making an impression, but most don’t. 

Bobbi spends most of her time watching over Daisy, Jemma, and Elena over her partners’ shoulders. Some of the nobles are trying to court Daisy, which worries Bobbi. While at her court, Daisy is under her protection, and any impropriety is her responsibility. Bobbi’s relieved when Trip asks Daisy to dance; at least he won’t try anything uncouth.

She’s beginning to think that she’s going to die of boredom (her last dozen or so dances were all flops) when she feels a tap on her shoulder. When she turns around, it’s the Aurelian knight who’s in front of her, extending his hand. 

“If I may,” he says, bowing to her. Bobbi doesn’t hesitate to accept. Even if he’s a horrible conversationalist, the knight will at least be more intriguing than the score of other nobles that she’s seen before.

It’s just her luck that the song that starts next is much slower than the previous - a dance meant for lovers. But she’d already accepted, and she’s not going to let a slower pace keep her from any information she can get on Sir Hunter. He settles a hand on her waist, and Bobbi’s finger curl into his shoulder, brushing against the soft fabric of his cloak.

“Your cloak is beautiful,” Bobbi compliments. She had overlooked it when Sir Hunter had first entered the hall, but when he danced it was hard to ignore. The garment was like nothing Bobbi had ever seen - midnight blue, but woven through with threads of silver and gold that made it shimmer like the night’s sky. Bobbi couldn’t be sure, but she swore she saw actual constellations shining in the fabric of the cloak.

“Thank you. Your dress is splendid, as well,” Sir Hunter returns. Bobbi’s ballgown is in similar hue to Sir Hunter’s cloak, a rich dark blue that she had been assured made her look powerful. He pauses. “Do you normally speak about fashion with strangers?”

Bobbi chuckles. “It’s very hard for me to meet anyone I’d call a stranger anymore.” It was a perk - or pitfall, depending on your perspective - of being queen. She knew everyone, and everyone knew her.

“Does this mean I’m special?” The knight smiles disarmingly, and Bobbi ignores the hiccup in her heartbeat.

“Maybe,” she answers evasively. “Or maybe it’s where you’re from that’s special.”

“You wound me,” he says, voice light and eyes sparkling. His accent is becoming more and more distracting by the second.

“So, what’s life like in Aurelie?” Bobbi asks, now that they’ve broached the subject somewhat.

“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” Sir Hunter replies. 

Bobbi arches an eyebrow. “Threatening the life of a queen in her own court is hardly a smart thing to do.”

“Your Majesty,” Hunter quirks his lips into a smile, “anyone who’s spent longer than five minutes in my company will tell you that I am by no means smart.”

Bobbi’s laugh surprises her. She has to admit that he’s charming, in an annoying sort of way. At the very least he doesn’t seem interested in listing all the ways he’d be her perfect husband. 

“I might need to test that theory for myself,” Bobbi says.

“The song will be over before the time is up.” As if she didn’t know that already.

“This may surprise you, but I am capable of doing more than one dance.” Sir Hunter doesn’t hesitate to laugh at her teasing, and Bobbi’s cheeks warm. He’s quite a good dancer, and she’s just now noticing how close they’ve gotten over the course of the song. 

“I’m sure that’s only one of your many talents.” Now that she’s focused on the distance between them, or lack thereof, Bobbi can’t think of anything but that, and it’s making it hard to summon a comeback.

“Another talent of mine is persistence.” Bobbi’s voice is less breezy than she would’ve hoped, but it’s still passable. “So, what  _ can _ you tell me about Aurelie?”

“That it’s where I’m from.” Hunter smiles again, and Bobbi kind of wants to punch him. But she had promised Mack no murders tonight, and she had a feeling that punching fell in the same category, even though it’s significantly less permanent.

“Clever,” Bobbi murmurs. The song begins to fade, and a few minor lords begin to buzz around the edges of the dance floor. She doesn’t release Sir Hunter’s shoulder, nor does she let go of his hand.

He squeezes their joined hands, and it startles her. The gesture is oddly familiar, and she’s not sure how she feels about it. It’s reassuring, bolstering her against the mutinous glances shot her way when the lords realize she’s not going to relinquish her current partner. 

The next dance is slightly more upbeat, and the knight takes a half-step backwards so they can move more easily. 

“Aurelie,” he says without any prompting on her part, “is a beautiful place. But things have changed since the king and the boy prince were murdered.”

Bobbi blinks, unsure of what to do with that information. She had asked, of course, but she’s unsure if she’s supposed to ask questions or just continue letting the knight talk.

“There were rumors in Aurelie since the time of your birth that you and the boy prince would be married when you came of age, which is why I’m here,” Hunter explains. “There are some in Aurelie that feel you owe them your hand, as it was once believed would happen.”

Bobbi goes from sympathetic to enraged in half a second. “I don’t owe anyone anything!” And she owes a country that she had no memory of even less!

“I know,” Sir Hunter replies soothingly, calming her anger as quickly as he had ignited it. “Which is why I only asked you for a dance.” 

“Two dances,” Bobbi corrects.

“I only asked you for one.” Hunter smirks. “You asked for the second. And I’m curious as to your assessment.”

“Of your intelligence?” The knight nods. “Perhaps this is more reflective of the company I’ve been forced to keep tonight, but I found you smarter than most.”

Hunter’s chest puffs up, and it’s almost laughable how pleased he seems with her compliment. Bobbi smiles instead. “Will you be staying long?”

“Queen Isabelle requested that I visit King Garrett’s court before I return to Aurelie.” Hunter doesn’t look all too pleased with that mission, and Bobbi doesn’t blame him. “I spoke with Duke Triplett earlier this evening, and he kindly agreed to allow me to travel with his party when they return.” Trip’s not leaving for another week, which means Bobbi has at least that long to learn more about Hunter - and the queendom he serves, of course.

“I should hope to see more of you, Sir Hunter.”

“And I of you, Your Majesty.” He smiles again. “If you’d prefer, my given name is Lance.”

It’s forthright of him to suggest, especially upon their first meeting, but Bobbi doesn’t mind. “Then I should hope to see more of you, Lance.” 

Unfortunately, when the second song is finished, Bobbi can’t shirk her duties any longer. She dances for song after song, but they all melt together. Try as she might to focus, Bobbi spends the rest of the night distracted by the swirling of a cape woven from stars.

\---

There’s one thing that bothers Bobbi about the conversation with Sir Hunter, and it’s that she had never found a reason that he might have to speak to Jemma. He, like Bobbi, had had no shortage of people wishing to dance with him, and there’s no reason he would dance with a lady in waiting… is there?

“Jemma,” Bobbi asks as she sits in front of her mirror and the younger woman begins removing bobby pins from her hair. “What was the subject of your conversation with Sir Hunter?”

The bobby pin Jemma was removing drops to the ground, and Bobbi hears a soft curse as she leans to pick it up.

“Why do you ask?” Jemma asks when she straightens, beginning to run her hand through Bobbi’s hair again in search of more pins. Maybe it had been too invasive of a question, Bobbi thinks.

“It just seemed rather intense, is all. Was he bothering you?” Bobbi iss also planning on asking Jemma what she knew of Daisy’s dance partners, but there was only so much questioning Jemma could take at once, especially this late at night - or, rather, this early in the morning.

“He wasn’t,” Jemma says quickly. “Your Majesty…” Jemma sighs, and stops what she’s doing. 

“I’m from Aurelie.” Jemma speaks so quickly that the words all blur together, and it takes Bobbi a minute to pull them apart and realize what Jemma said.

“Oh.” She hadn’t expected that. Yes, Jemma spoke in a strange manner, but it wasn’t like Sir Hunter’s accent, and… well, Bobbi’s just rather confused.

“After the king and prince were killed, my family worried for their safety. So we fled,” Jemma explained quietly. “And I don’t really consider myself Aurelian, you know? I was a baby when we left, and I don’t remember anything from Aurelie, and you’re my best friend, and…”

“Jemma,” Bobbi interrupts. “I’m not upset with you.” Honestly, she was still processing what on earth Jemma’s heritage meant - for Jemma, and for their friendship. 

“I - I’m glad.” Jemma’s fingers begin to fumble with the last of the intricate updo, at last leaving Bobbi’s hair to spill over her shoulders. “I’m sorry for not telling you before, but… it didn’t really seem relevant. And I was worried I’d lose my job.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Bobbi says firmly. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Jemma smiles at her, and Bobbi smiles back. Tonight has been full of interesting revelations, but it’s also been exhausting, and Bobbi is eager to sleep.


	4. of archery and alliances

In hindsight, Bobbi had been foolish to believe that the ball would be the end of the festivities. Duke Talbot had taken it upon himself to organize an archery event for the visiting nobles. And, apparently, the prize was to be a private walk with the queen. Bobbi was not informed of any of this until minutes before the first arrow was due to be loosed, and she’s seething as she steps into her box. Talbot had overstepped his bounds, and there’s going to be hell to pay - as soon as Bobbi figured out how to make him pay it.

“Try to smile,” Daisy suggests from Bobbi’s elbow. “That makes everything easier to get through.”

Bobbi wants to glare at the princess, but Daisy’s just trying to be helpful, and Bobbi can't begrudge her that. The smile feels as forced as it looks, and after a moment Bobbi drops back into a neutral expression. It was better than the stormy look she had been wearing before, though, so maybe the smiling had helped?

“At least it shouldn’t take long,” Daisy says, ever the optimist. “Trip says that they each only get three arrows.”

Bobbi notes the familiar nickname Daisy uses for the duke. She wonders how often the princess had met with Duke Triplett before the ball the previous night, and makes a note to inquire around. 

“That’s only if there’s no ties.” Most of the noblemen preferred the sword as their weapon of choice. They were compensating for something, Bobbi thought, but that was beside the point. They were all likely to be equally atrocious, and if someone did win, Bobbi’s entirely prepared for it to be because of luck instead of skill.

“The Aurelian is competing,” Daisy notes. Bobbi’s eyes rake up and down the field of competitors, and it takes her a moment to find Sir Hunter. He’s not wearing his cloak, and his plainclothes are - well, very plain. 

Bobbi nods. “Did you dance with him last night?”

“No,” Daisy’s light-hearted smile turns mischievous. “But you did. Twice.”

“I did,” Bobbi agrees, not allowing her composure to slip despite the devious look on Daisy’s face.

“Are you fond of him?” 

“I’ve spoken to him for all of ten minutes, Daisy.”

“Ten minutes is more than enough time to decide if you’re fond of someone.” Perhaps Bobbi imagines it, but she swears she sees the younger woman’s eyes flick towards Jemma, who’s sitting two rows beneath them.

“He seems charming,” Bobbi says, still skirting around the question. 

“You’re hopeless.” Daisy lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“I’m practical,” Bobbi defends. “Even if I  _ was _ fond of Sir Hunter, I hardly think he’s an appropriate choice to help rule a kingdom.”

“Because he’s a knight, or because he’s Aurelian?” Daisy presses. “And I thought you were intent on marrying for love, not for politics.”

“I’m going to marry who I choose, based on whatever criteria I wish. I do think it’s important for my husband to have some sort of political savvy.”

“Do you think Queen Isabelle would send someone without any political savvy whatsoever to be her first contact with the outside world in twenty years?” The question is rhetorical, but Bobbi still wishes she had a retort for it. Daisy’s right; Bobbi doesn’t need to know anything about Queen Isabelle to know that she wouldn’t send an imbecile as an envoy. No queen would. A king, maybe, but a queen? Definitely not.

A trumpet sounds, signalling the start of the tournament. Duke Talbot explains the rules. There are five painted rings on each target, with the outer ring worth the least amount of points and the bullseye the most. Whoever accumulated the most points at the end of the three rounds would be permitted to promenade Bobbi around the castle grounds. Bobbi stands and waves when her name is mentioned, smiling as best as she can. 

She’s relieved when the trumpet sounds again and the focus is turned towards the archers. They release the volley of arrows on Talbot’s mark, and Bobbi winces at how many of the nobles manage to miss the target altogether.

Daisy nudges her, and points at the only target with a bullseye.

It’s Hunter’s.

Bobbi doesn’t know what to say to that, but Daisy’s smiling like the cat that caught the canary. She obviously wants to make a comment, but refrains.

They reset for the second round after Talbot makes note of each archer’s points. The duke hesitates when he reaches Sir Hunter’s target, but doesn’t do anything other than write the proper number and continue onwards.

The second volley of arrow passes much the same as the first; a fair few miss, many hit the outer ring, and there’s again only one bullseye. Daisy cackles at the stricken expression on Talbot’s face when he sees that Hunter has once again hit the bullseye. The Duke of Graviton obviously doesn’t like the visiting Aurelian, and Bobbi hasn’t a clue why. 

“Are you more inclined to marry him now?” Daisy asks.

“I do like to make Talbot angry,” Bobbi answers with the smallest of smirks. “But I maintain that I’ve hardly spent enough time with Sir Hunter to decide if marriage is in our future.”

“You’re about to spend much more time with him,” Daisy teases. “I hope you enjoy your promenade.”

Daisy’s not exactly right; a few of the competitors have enough points that if they got a perfect bullseye and Hunter missed the target, they’d be able to tie or surpass him in points. She doubted that would be the case, but Bobbi has long since learned not to make assumptions of her future.

The third volley of arrows, however, confirms the princess’s prediction. This time, an earl also hits the bullseye, but it’s not enough for him to beat Hunter, whose score is perfect.

Bobbi makes her way down from the stands, Daisy and Jemma a half-step behind her. Elena looks pained that she can’t join the trio, but she’s too busy listening to the other dukes justify their losses, no doubt with idiotic excuses. Bobbi has to walk past at least half of the nobles before she finds Sir Hunter, and even the snatches of lamentations she hears make her pity Elena more.

Hunter bows when he catches her eye, and an amused smile lights up Bobbi’s face as he does so. He walks the line between theatrical and respectful with practiced ease. 

“Your Majesty,” Hunter greets when he’s straightened. “If I had known I would have the pleasure of your presence today, I might have dressed more finely.” 

“Your attire is more than suitable,” Bobbi answers. “Do you wish to change before we walk?” It’s then that she notes that Hunter didn’t break a sweat while loosing his arrows; his tunic is still crisp and dry. 

“If my scent will not offend you, then I see no reason to make you wait.” He offers his arm to her then, and Bobbi takes it. She nods goodbye to Daisy and Jemma, her eyes following them until they disappear into the crowd. Hunter waits for her to turn back to him before beginning to lead them away from the archery field, carefully dodging the noblemen who are still putting away their bows. Hunter’s bow and quiver are slung across his shoulders, away from her hand on his arm. 

“I have no idea where I’m going,” Hunter laughs when they’re some distance away. “Could I impose upon you to lead the way?” Bobbi nods; she doesn’t know why she expected him to be able to navigate the castle grounds with any sort of familiarity. As she guides them to a walking path, Bobbi notices Mack out of the corner of her eye. He’s slipping into a position a few dozen paces behind them, ready to intervene at the slightest signal from her.

Bobbi doesn’t expect to need Mack - she doesn’t think Hunter would be so bold or so stupid as to make an attempt on her person at her own castle - but she’s glad for the guard’s presence nonetheless.

Much to her surprise, Hunter seems content to stroll in silence. It’s Bobbi who strikes up the conversation.

“Is the bow your weapon of choice?” 

“It is,” he confirms. “I suppose you don’t know much about Aurelian fighting, do you?”

Bobbi shakes her head, wondering how her parents had failed to teach her about an entire queendom. Even if Aurelie had been in self-imposed exile, there had never been a promise they’d stay that way forever. Perhaps she’d take a look at the library that night, Bobbi thought absently.

“Since our borders are forested, it’s important for us to be able to fight in tight spaces,” Hunter explains. “Swinging swords around wouldn’t do us much good, since they’d likely get stuck in a tree if you missed.”

They come to a fork in the path, and Bobbi pauses just long enough to allow Mack to see her take the left trail. It happens to be the trail that will allow her to walk with Sir Hunter for longer, not that she paid that any heed when making her choice.

“I can’t tell you much more than that, but most squires in Aurelie learn how to draw a bow before they so much as touch a dagger.”

“You really are tight-lipped, aren’t you?” Hunter glances at her just long enough to ascertain that she’s joking before answering.

“It’s scary to come back to a world that you’ve not been a part of for twenty years,” Hunter answers carefully. “An entire generation of my people don’t know what the world on the other side of the forest is like. When the last contact we had with the outside was the king and the boy prince being murdered, it’s hard to argue that their fear is ill-founded.”

Hunter’s story corroborates Jemma’s, but it’s different coming from his mouth. Jemma hadn’t lived in Aurelie, didn’t know enough of it to lament what had happened. Hunter’s home had been violated, and it seems right that the nation’s collective trust in the world beyond them would have been shattered. 

“Why did you come, then?” He had said at the ball that he had come to seek her hand, but that hardly seemed reason enough to end twenty years of isolation.

Hunter stops them then. He removes Bobbi’s hand from his arm and turns to meet her gaze directly.  “Because my queen asked it of me.” She thinks that’s all he’s going to say, but after a deep breath Hunter continues. “I don’t want you to believe that I did not grieve for my king and my prince. I loved them deeply.” The sunlight shining on them both catches the tears that are pooling in Hunter’s eyes. Bobbi cannot deny that whatever affection the knight felt for the royal family was pure - or that Hunter is more excellent of an actor than his station demands. “But twenty years of sorrow and fear is heavy on a heart, and mine cannot take any more.”

“I’m sorry.” Bobbi sees a reflection of herself in Hunter’s sad hazel eyes, and her heart tugs at the thought of her parents and all the others the plague had taken.

“You needn’t be.” Hunter offers his arm again, and Bobbi accepts it. “I only wish for you to understand that I come for peace and nothing else.” Bobbi doesn’t miss that Hunter reiterates his earlier claim that he does not expect her hand in marriage, and it relaxes her. 

“Has your queen given you the power to make agreements in her stead?” They resume walking, albeit at a slower pace than before.

“Aye.” Hunter shows her a seal ring that he wears on his left hand, the silver sun of Aurelie shining on it. She can’t believe she hadn’t noticed it before, but Bobbi has been rather preoccupied trying to read between the lines of what Hunter’s been saying, searching for deception. Thankfully, she’s found none.

“If it is peace you want, peace you will have, Sir Hunter.” Perhaps it is unwise to enter into an agreement with a queendom she knows so little of, but Bobbi isn’t worried. An alliance with Aurelie will remove one unknown from the great equation that is balancing the wider political schemes of the continent. If she’s able to impress Princess Daisy enough to continue the alliance with Clipeum as well, then she’ll be in a good position indeed. If she can stop focusing on affairs abroad then it might be easier to whip her own court into shape.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Hunter bows his head. “Now, if it is not too forward of me, perhaps we may discuss more personal matters?”

“It depends what personal matters you wish to discuss,” Bobbi hedges.

“Anything you wish, I suppose.” Hunter shrugs carelessly. “I have already made my intentions clear, I hope, so we needn’t talk about anything you don’t wish to.”

Bobbi nods. Politically and personally, Sir Hunter is rather transparent. She had never met a courtier who wore their heart so plainly as the knight did, but it seems to have served him well thus far. 

“Tell me about your cloak?” Bobbi suggests. “And then I will tell you a story of mine.”

“Ah.” Hunter presses his lips together. “If you’ll forgive me, Your Majesty, it is not a happy story.” Bobbi frowns slightly, wondering if Hunter has any happy stories at all to share. She waves for him to continue nonetheless.

“It is tradition in my family for a father to commission a cloak for his son to be given at the son’s coming of age. The cloak is meant to symbolize something - either the babe’s name, or a hope for the future, or anything else the father may wish to pass down.” Bobbi listens raptly to Hunter’s explanation, a hundred questions all ready to be asked. “My father died before the cloak could be made, so my mother stood in his place.” Oh. That is quite sad, Bobbi thinks, her lips turning further downward. 

“She gave it to me before my coming of age, as a reminder of my father and my heritage. So we rather mucked up the whole premise.” Hunter manages a smile despite the serious nature of his words.

“Do you miss him terribly?” Bobbi blurts out before she can stop herself. It’s rude to ask after the dead, she knows, but the own ache in her heart has grown into a sharp pain through the course of Hunter’s story, and she wants to know. She’s hoped for a long while that missing her parents will fade, that the pain will somehow cease, but she’s never gathered enough courage to ask anyone if her presumption is true.

“Of course I do.” Hunter lays his free hand across Bobbi’s arm, obviously all too aware of why she asked the question. Everyone knows that her parents are gone, so at least she’s spared the pain of having to announce it to every new person she meets. 

“Some days I almost forget that he’s not still here. I walk around the corner and expect to see him laughing with my mother. When I’m not in the castle I wait for his letters. Some nights I wake up calling for him because I’ve had a nightmare, and I remember all over again that he’s not there to chase the monsters away like he always did.” Hunter swallows thickly, overcome with emotion. “But I’ve learned to fight my own monsters, and I think he’d be proud of that. In the end, some days are easy, and some are hard. The trick is you never know which it’s going to be.”

That’s not what Bobbi wants to hear.

“It’s alright, Your Majesty,” Hunter murmurs as her lower lip begins to tremble. The only way Bobbi’s managed to muscle her way through grieving thus far has been by telling herself that one day, it will all be easier. Now she’s being told that her hope is false, and it’s just too much. “May I hug you?” He asks tentatively. She nods, and soon finds herself swept up in a pair of strong arms.

Bobbi stands in the warmth of Hunter’s embrace for quite some time. The tears refuse to fall, but it’s nice to be held by someone who understands why feels like there’s a hole where her heart should have been.


	5. of Hunter and horseplay

The days following the archery tournament are surprisingly peaceful, given all the visitors that were staying in the palace. Bobbi is nearly constantly harangued by various suitors, but that makes her council meetings with the nobles easier than ever; they’re complacent so long as they believe that she’s considering the many offers of marriage she’s been given.

The nobles were also surprisingly accepting of her having made an alliance with Aurelie without so much as consulting them. Bobbi suspects a fair number of them are anticipating that she’ll announce that she’s accepted Sir Hunter’s hand in marriage. They’ll be mortified if they ever discover that he’d never offered himself, and has in fact made a point of not expecting to marry her.

Bobbi, for her part, is rethinking her stance on Sir Hunter. At first she had been relieved that he wasn’t going to force himself onto her for the sake of his queendom’s expectations, but looking at all of her suitors objectively, Hunter is one of the best. He’s kind, kinder than most nobles - though Bobbi takes care not to let her thoughts stray to their hug in the forest too often. She finds herself almost obsessed with the idea of having someone who understands what it’s like to lose a parent far too young, and it seems unfair to unburden all of her problems on the visiting knight. Mack would also tell her it was unwise; letting him see the chinks in her armor, having just made his acquaintance, wasn’t a smart move personally or politically.

She needs time to clear her head. Bobbi’s schedule is clear at midday to allow her and her court time for supper. She eats a light meal, giving her extra free time to go on a ride. Mack is already waiting for her in the stables, having received a message from a page about her plans. Bobbi once again wishes for privacy in her thoughts, but she’s received enough lectures from Mack to know that he won’t allow her to be alone, except for in her own bedchambers. Mack has conveniently forgotten that both he and her mother had given her extensive self-defense lessons in case she should be caught unawares. 

“You’re not going to invite anyone to ride with you?” Mack asks as the stable hands begin preparing Bobbi’s horse.

Bobbi shakes her head. “I’ve already spent enough time in the company of others, Mack. It’s exhausting, you know.” Bobbi would never consider herself particularly introverted, but endless days of meetings and conversations and constantly having to be available are tiring.

If she were to invite someone it would also rather defeat the point of clearing her head; it’s hard to organize her thoughts with someone chattering incessantly in her ear.

“I’ll follow behind, then.” His tone brokers no argument, but it’s a mandate Bobbi’s already prepared for. Even if she chafes at never being truly alone, she understands the need for protection when there are so many strangers at the castle.

They set off together, but Bobbi quickly pulls ahead when they reach the forest trails. She’s ridden on them hundreds of times since she was a child, and they’re as familiar as the back of her hand. If she truly wanted to, Bobbi doesn’t doubt that she could shake her tail in the forest. She’s considering doing just that when she reaches another horse on the trail, riderless. It has its reins looped around the lower branches of a tree, and doesn’t look at all alarmed at its abandonment.

Bobbi frowns. There’s a river that’s able to be reached by a nearby foot trail, but there are closer and easier places to leave a horse if that was the owner’s intention. She halts her own steed, squinting at the saddlebag of the abandoned horse in hopes of finding a clue who it belongs to. The only thing emblazoned on the bag is a symbol of a bow and arrow. Before Bobbi can parse who it may belong to, there’s a rustle in the branches.

She fumbles in her skirts, searching for the dagger that’s strapped to her thigh as she cranes her neck upwards to see who’s in the treetops.

Bobbi relaxes markedly when she manages to make out a sun-dappled face in between the leaves. “Sir Hunter,” she greets, raising her voice enough so that it will carry both to him and to Mack.

“Your Majesty.” The knight bobs his head in the best approximation of a bow he can make while in the treetop. He swings down from the branches in a few lithe movements, giving her another, fuller bow when both his feet are firmly planted.

“Dare I ask what you were doing in that tree?”

Hunter tosses something in her direction, and Bobbi catches it instinctively. She looks down at the fruit in her hand, smiling. “You have a fondness for peaches?” she asks.

“I prefer mushrooms, actually, but I’ve never seen half of these before.” Hunter leans back against the tree casually. “I make a mean mushroom soup, but I’d hate to be poisoned by an unfamiliar fungi.”

“It would be a tragedy indeed.” Bobbi glances over her shoulder at Mack, who’s halted far enough away that he likely can’t hear their conversation now that she’s resumed a normal volume. Good - she doesn’t need him interrogating her when the ride is over (though she thinks he might do it anyways).

“May I have your leave to steal more of your fruit?” Hunter asks. Bobbi nods. She doesn’t really think of it as stealing for anyone to take fruit from the castle grounds; the forest is mostly wild and though the peach tree technically belongs to her, Bobbi doesn’t have the time or resources to set people to harvesting the fruit from the wild trees. She bites into the peach while Sir Hunter vaults back into the tree, the sweet juice dribbling down her chin in a distinctly unladylike fashion. Bobbi wipes the back of her hand across her mouth, but that just smears the stickiness further.

Hunter slips back to the ground, arms already full of peaches. He tucks most of them into his saddlebag, but keeps one in his hand even as he mounts his horse. “Would you care to ride with me?” he asks. Bobbi’s only other choice is turning back around, so she nods.

“May I go out on a limb and guess that tree-climbing is also a part of the curriculum for an Aurelian knight?” From what Hunter said on their promenade, much of Aurelian fighting was structured around their forested borders. It seemed rather silly to have a forest as a natural defense and not know how to climb trees.

“Aye,” Hunter answers. “I can teach you sometime,” the knight offers. Bobbi nearly drops her fruit. She can  _ hear _ the scandal in spending unsupervised time with the knight, doing more than just walking and talking. Bobbi ignores the thrill that travels up her spine.

“You’re just looking for an excuse to look up my skirt.” Hunter laughs loudly, shaking his head at her.

“You are quite something, Your Majesty,” he says. His eyes twinkle like stars when he looks at her, and Bobbi can’t help but smile at him.

“Call me Bobbi,” she offers. Now she’s  _ very _ glad Mack isn’t in earshot, or he would be giving her all sorts of looks about allowing someone who was, for most intents and purposes, a stranger to call her by her nickname. 

“Bobbi,” Lance repeats, testing the word in his mouth. It sounds different in his accent, but Bobbi rather likes it. 

They continue a bit further down the trail, both finishing with their peaches and tossing the pits to the side of the trail, where they may sprout into trees of their own. 

“There’s a stream not far ahead, if you want to wash your hands.” Bobbi is disgustingly sticky. The midday sun had traveled through the forest canopy and dried the peach juice into a crust on her hands and face. Hunter nods his assent, and when they reach the stream he dismounts first. He offers a hand to help her get down. Bobbi considers forgoing his help to prove a point, but she can practically feel Mack’s eyes burning into her, and she knows it’s more polite to accept. 

Together they navigate through the thistle and to the stream’s edge. Bobbi doesn’t realize until they’ve reached the water’s edge that she’s yet to release Sir Hunter’s hands, and a pleasant flush creeps onto the apples of her cheeks as she untangles their fingers.

Bobbi dips her hands into the cool water of the stream, cleaning her fingers and splashing water on her face. Hunter does the same beside her, but even after they’ve gotten clean, they linger by the banks of the stream. Hunter peels off his boots so he can dangle his toes into the water. Bobbi copies him, glad that she had foregone wearing stockings that morning. She shivers at the chill of the water, and Hunter wraps a warm, heavy arm around her shoulders.

“I’m glad I got to see you again,” Hunter murmurs as they watch ripples on the water. “I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to.”

Bobbi’s cheeks, already warm from the sun and her previous blushing, feel even hotter. “I’m glad to see you, too.” She pauses. “I never did properly thank you, for what you did on our walk.”

“It’s not something I did for thanks.” Hunter turns his face to her, brow slightly furrowed. “It’s a special kind of agony to lose a parent, and I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been to shoulder that burden while also wearing a crown.”

Bobbi swallows, willing away the tears that are threatening again. “Still. I hope you know you have my gratitude, for your comfort and your discretion.” She assumes, at least, that he hadn’t spoken of it to anyone; she isn’t getting any more comments about the weakness of a woman’s emotions, at least.

“Of course.” Hunter pauses, obviously considering something. “I’d like your permission to write to you while I’m in King Garrett’s court.”

“You may,” she murmurs. “And… I’d also very much like it if someday, you taught me how to climb a tree.” Bobbi clears her throat, trying not to think too hard about Hunter’s arm still secure around her shoulders or how easy it is to sit in silence with him. She kicks her legs lazily in the water, which is an effective enough distraction.

Bobbi flinches at the sudden cold when Hunter removes his arm from her shoulder, schooling her face into a neutral expression to hide her disappointment. Her expression quickly morphs into shock when she feels a few drops of water splash on her face. Hunter grins at her, long eyelashes framing innocent hazel eyes. He’s hiding one of his hands behind his back; Bobbi would bet her queendom that the hidden hand is wet from stream water.

After a moment of frozen surprise, Bobbi does the only logical thing there is to do: she splashes him back. She’s not nearly as careful as he was, and instead of a light mist, Hunter gets a faceful of water that leaves him sputtering.

Hunter laughs, shaking his head and whipping off the water. “I should stop before I get myself in trouble.”

“That would be the smart thing to do,” Bobbi agrees. They’ve already established, however, that Hunter is  _ not _ smart, and she hopes that he reads the hidden invitation in her words.

He does, if the smirk on his face is anything to go by. Hunter dips his hand into the stream and flips his wrist, sending another stream of water towards her. He’s still far more restrained than she, and Bobbi is able to dodge the small splash with ease. She’s about to reprimand him for going easy on her when she realizes that the splash was a diversion for something bigger.

Blades of grass fall around her like rain, catching in her hair and in the folds of her tunic. “Lance!” Bobbi tries to sound affronted, but she’s laughing too hard to manage any sort of gravitas. 

She tears up a handful of grass to retaliate with, only just managing to get it out of her hand before she lets out a series of quick sneezes.

“Bless you,” Hunter whispers, voice surprisingly tender.

“Thank you.” Bobbi’s unashamed by using the moment of distraction provided by her sneeze to toss another handful of grass towards him. She laughs as the grass tangles in his hair, making him equal parts human and foliage.

Hunter leans forward unexpectedly, reaching for her hair. Bobbi forces herself to still when he cards his fingers through her hair, loosening the strands of grass there. He works in silence, his lip curled inwards slightly as he concentrates on ridding her of the greenery.

“Your Majesty.” Hunter flinches back at the sound of Mack’s voice, and Bobbi turns to see the head guard standing at the top of the embankment. “It’s time for us to return to the castle.”

“Right,” Bobbi sighs. Hunter’s already standing, offering her a hand up. She takes it without thought, pausing when she has her balance.

“You look like a madman.” Hunter wears the grass on his head like a crown and his tunic has odd splatters of water all over the front. Bobbi doesn’t want him to look ridiculous when he returns to wherever he’s staying. She reaches to brush the worst of the grass off his head, and is about to comb her fingers through his locks when Mack clears his throat loudly.

“I’ll get the rest of it,” Hunter promises. “Have a good ride back.” He squeezes her hand before releasing it, allowing Bobbi to hike back to Mack and her waiting horse alone. She risks one last glance over her shoulder, smiling to herself as Hunter shakes his head again.

Bobbi’s hoping for a quiet ride back, but as soon as she mounts her horse, she realizes that’s impossible. Mack looks practically bursting with questions. When they’re far enough down the trail to be firmly out of earshot of Sir Hunter, Bobbi waves for him to speak.

“You two seem awfully comfortable together.”

“I can only speak for myself.” Bobbi keeps her gaze on the trail ahead instead of looking at Mack. “And for myself I say, I enjoy his company.”

“You don’t think any of his is suspicious?” Mack presses.

She knows the question’s coming, but it still feels like a punch to the gut to hear it - mostly because Bobbi knows it’s a fair question. A handsome knight from an exiled queendom who has a story that parallels hers? It’s objectively too good to be true. Hunter’s waxing poetic about his reasons for Aurelie returning had given more reason for his sudden appearance, but Bobbi still feels like there’s a piece of the puzzle she’s missing.

None of this changes that she’s fond of Lance Hunter.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Barbara,” Mack sighs. “We can’t afford -”

“I know what’s at stake, Mack.” Bobbi interrupts him. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m  _ trying _ .” She urges her horse into a canter, failing to ignore the way the weight of a queendom is once again on her shoulders.


	6. of letters and loss

Bobbi doesn’t see Sir Hunter again before he sets off for Ceterum with Trip and the rest of his party. She had been hoping that she’d be able to see the group off, but she had been needed elsewhere.

Three days after Trip, Hunter, and the others had left, Bobbi returns to her room for the night to find an envelope on her bureau, sealed with a familiar bow-and-arrow insignia.

“Are you going to open it?” Jemma asks from Bobbi’s elbow.

“Yes.” Bobbi tries not to stare at the letter for too long. “After I get ready for bed.”

“Scandalous!”

“He’s not going to know I read it while in my pajamas, Jemma.” Besides, the letter isn’t a love letter; she needn’t worry about being improper by reading it just before bed. 

Jemma rolls her eyes fondly but helps Bobbi go about her nightly routine. When she’s finished, Bobbi shoos Jemma away to sleep and settles in her bed with the letter. She breaks the seal, revealing a letter that’s surprisingly long-winded.

 

_ Your Majesty, _

_ I trust Duke Triplett has already informed you of our safe arrival to King Garrett’s court, but I must confess that I was eager to make use of your permission to write you. I have no one to whom I may give my general opinions of Ceterum, so I’m afraid that burden falls onto you. Truth be told, I find myself uneasy to be here. I never thought I would prefer a hostel to a castle, but the thought that I would prefer to be in my old lodgings in Codea has crossed my mind more than once since my arrival. The company in Codea is also much preferable - King Garrett is not nearly as fun to talk to as yourself. Don’t tell him I said that, though, unless you wish for my head to be parted from my shoulders (which I think we can both agree would be unfortunate). _

_ Ever at your service, _

_ L. Hunter _

 

Bobbi rereads the letter, and in short order finds herself mentally composing her response. She gets out of bed and lights a candle at the bureau so she can pen her response, ignoring the late hour in favor of jotting down her reply.

 

_ Sir Hunter, _

_ Duke Triplett has passed the message along, yes, but I will never be upset to have extra confirmation that a friend is safe. I’m sorry that the castle has not been everything that you hoped, and that you are uneasy in Garrett’s court. I’ve been told that he is easier to stomach after you’ve known him for some time, so perhaps the future will bring better things for your relationship. You remain a shameless flatterer, though I cannot say I’m not pleased to learn you enjoy our conversations as much as I have. I wish your head and shoulders to remain joined, yes - though there are some in Garrett’s court for whom I think having no head would be an improvement.  _

_ Yours, _

_ Bobbi _

 

Bobbi waits for the ink to dry before rereading the letter and determining it sufficient. She folds it carefully, sliding it into an envelope and sealing it. She blows out the candle before slipping back into bed, satisfied.

The next morning Jemma looks at the envelope on the desk and shakes her head at Bobbi, but doesn’t say anything more.

\---

The next letter she receives is delivered to her personally instead of being left in her chambers, and at breakfast time no less. Bobbi wills her cheeks not to flush as she accepts the letter from the page, setting it beside her plate carefully before turning her attention back to the meal.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Daisy looks entirely too pleased with herself, even though she couldn’t possibly know that the letter is from Hunter, unless… Bobbi turns to glare at Jemma, who shrugs apologetically.

“No.” Mostly Bobbi doesn’t want to be expected to share the contents of Sir Hunter’s letter to her. She’s also rather afraid that it will find a way to consume her mind if she reads it now, and Bobbi needs a clear head for the day to come. 

“What if it says something important?” Daisy wheedles.

“It won’t.” If the first letter had established anything, it was that her letters with Hunter were of a personal nature. Unless his comment about Ceterum and Garrett had been meant to be a subtle political comment? Bobbi vows to reread Hunter’s letter again that night.

“Please?” Daisy flutters her eyelashes in a way that other probably find difficult to resist. Unfortunately for Bobbi, she also finds Daisy’s wide brown eyes hard to say no to.

“Fine.” Bobbi reaches for the letter, breaking the seal with a satisfying snapping sound. She pulls the parchment out gently, not wanting it to rip or the ink to smudge. It has nothing to do with her wanting to savor the moment, of course. Nothing at all.

 

_ Bobbi, _

_I will your advice regarding King Garrett to heart, though he stills chafes at me even after a week in his presence. I’m not sure I’m patient enough for this task - and before you ask, no, I am not a generally patient person. I know myself enough to know that. In any case, I’ve spent most of my leisure time with Duke Triplett, and he has shared with me_ _many_ _fascinating stories from your youth, all of which I’ve been told you’ll deny memory of. I’ve been told I would not enjoy growing up the child of nobles, but I think it would be worse to grow up without contemporaries with which to share the burden._

_ Don’t pay any mind to me, though. I wrote this letter in haste, so that it could be sent to you before you had forgotten about me entirely. _

_ Your obedient servant, _

_ L. Hunter _

 

“Well?” Daisy asks impatiently.

“He’s been spending most of his time with Trip,” Bobbi offers as she folds the letter and replaces it into the envelope. “I rather think they’ve been getting into trouble.”

Daisy smirks. “That’s an awfully long letter just to say that he’s been spending time with Duke Triplett.”

Bobbi fixes Daisy with a glare. The letter really wasn’t that long at all, and it wasn’t like she was going to tell Daisy about Hunter’s less-than-shining opinions of John Garrett, or that Hunter had been worried she would forget about him. The former would get her into a political quagmire, and the latter a personal one.

“Is it lewd?” Daisy asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

“What!? No!” Bobbi only realizes after she’s spoken that her vehement denial might be read as a confirmation by some. She doesn’t want to think about how thinking of Hunter sending her lascivious letters makes her feel, because it’s already entirely too warm in the room. “The letter was sent to me in confidence, and in confidence it will remain.” Bobbi hopes that final, stubborn assertion is enough to ward Daisy off the subject, and thankfully the hope is well-founded. 

The princess begins chattering about the birds she had seen out her window that morning, and Bobbi nods along while Jemma begins giving the scientific names for each of the birds Daisy describes. Her mind is elsewhere - she’s already mentally composing her reply.

She doesn’t have time to write it down until well past sundown, but at that point Bobbi’s had ages to think of just the perfect wording. Every pretty word flies out of her head when she sits down at her desk, and she spends an embarrassing amount of time staring at a blank page. Bobbi hesitates, but the moment she begins writing, she can’t stop.

 

_ Hunter, _

_ I wish you nothing but luck on your endeavor, though I do hope you won’t become more fond of King Garrett than you are of me - that would sadden me greatly. I never would accuse you of being impatient, but if you admit it yourself, who am I to argue? As for my childhood with Trip, you should not listen to a thing he says. He’s prone to exaggeration and embellishment. I was nothing but an angel as a child. Growing up a princess wasn’t horrible, mostly because I never had an idea of what else there could be. It was just my life. Besides, I was much more privileged than most; I wanted for nothing. Having friends was fun, though it’s much more difficult to keep them now. _

_ Enough of my complaining. You may take as long as you’d like in your responses - I solemnly swear you will not be forgotten - though I do hope to hear from you again soon. _

_ Warmly,  _

_ Bobbi _

 

\---

Bobbi has spent the past hour in the royal library, entirely too occupied with searching the shelves to pay much mind to the letter that’s sitting on one of the pine tables that she’s claimed as her temporary base of operations. Others are coming in and out of the library, but everyone seems to have caught on to her not wanting to be bothered.

Finally, minutes before she’s going to resign herself to failure, Bobbi finds the book she’s been looking for. She settles at the desk, blowing off the thick layer of dust that’s settled on the cover of the book.  _ A Complete History of Aurelie _ . The librarian had recommended the book, saying that it contained everything Codea’s scholars knew about Aurelie up until the time of its self-imposed exile. Bobbi’s a little apprehensive to open the thing. It’s strange, but it feels like a violation of sorts. Everything she knows about Aurelie has come from Hunter, and while she knows that it’s within her rights to seek outside information, she can’t help but feel like she’s betraying the knight.

Stupid emotions.

Bobbi doesn’t bother reading the ancient history of the queendom, flipping instead to the chapter about the exile. The time flies away as she drinks up the story, which is mostly a patchwork of rumors that have been stitched together into something resembling plausible. 

At the end of it, Bobbi is more than happy to open Hunter’s letter. The account of double assassination of King Christopher and Prince Orion, whose names she hadn’t even known until reading the history, left her with heavy heart. She shimmies the piece of paper out of its holding, the now-familiar scratch of Hunter’s handwriting lightening her somewhat.

 

_ Bobbi, _

_ The chances of me liking Garrett more than you are nonexistent. I never would wish to see you sad, which makes me even more sure of my declaration. You’re quite clever, to let me admit my own failings and then simply agree with me; that way you can’t get into trouble for it. Trip told me you’d say something of the sort. I think you were probably less than saintly. I think you were a bit of a she-devil, actually, even if Trip’s stories are embellished. You’ll be pleased to know that I like you even more upon learning of your more impish tendencies, though I didn’t know that was possible. _

_ Even with your leave, my answer comes quickly. Your letters are a highlight of my day, so I cannot restrain myself from answering them at the earliest opportunity. _

_ Yours faithfully, _

_ Lance _

 

Bobbi’s smiling by the end of the letter, and she rereads it quickly before beginning her own response.

 

_ Lance, _

_ Thank you for your kind reassurance. I will be sure to keep it a secret from King Garrett if the subject ever arises in my conversations with him. I think you have told me now you are neither smart nor patient - I am beginning to think you have no positive qualities whatsoever. Unless you’re willing to give me a list of those, as well? I, for one, have no problem denying that I am, as you say, a she-devil. Like I said, I am an  _ _ angel _ _. Trip’s stories definitely are embellished, so you can lose the ‘if’ from your statement. I am pleased that his embellishment has somehow made you like me more, though I worry if my reputation now precedes me. _

_ Your letters are bright spots for me, as well. I look forward to reading another soon. _

_ Until then, _

_ Bobbi _

 

She considers adding a postscript asking what Hunter knows about Prince Orion and King Christopher, but decides that would be in bad taste. Bobbi blows on the ink to dry it, and exits the library intent on finding a page who can get her letter to a courier before the sun sets.

\---

Bobbi is enjoying one of her rare moment of quiet on the castle grounds, sitting under the shade of an apricot tree, when a page comes hurrying up to her. She knows that Mack is within shouting distance, but the boy is in uniform and carrying a letter - just in time for when she’d expected Hunter’s reply. She accepts the letter and fins that it is indeed sealed with the dark blue wax and bow-and-arrow emblem she’s come to know and like in the recent weeks. The page hurries off to his next task, and Bobbi watches him go before opening her letter.

It’s surprisingly brief, and Bobbi frowns as she begins to read.

 

_ Bob - _

_ Not much time to write. Things gone strange here, and I think I’m being watched. Trip is trying to find out what’s going on, but we both think it’s best if I lay low for a while. Tomorrow I move from the castle to a house in Trip’s duchy, so if I’ve fallen out of favor with the king I’ll still be safe. I don’t mean to worry you - only let you know that my letters may cease for the time being. This means nothing of my affection for you, of course. Please don’t be too angry. _

_ L.H. _

 

Bobbi bites her lip, resisting the urge to call for Mack. He’d give a cursory attempt at comfort, but he still doesn’t approve of Hunter and wouldn’t be all too pleased by the letter, she thinks. He’d take it as a sign that Hunter is dangerous. And really, if Garrett is after him for some reason, Hunter is dangerous.

But he’s also in danger, and Bobbi doesn’t like that. The fear in his letter is palpable, and it makes her feel itchy. If Aurelie’s first diplomat is injured, or worse, war seems inevitable. 

With all of that at stake, what Hunter is thinking about is that she might be angry with him. Bobbi traces the last line with the tip of her forefinger, memorizing the slope of each ink stroke. If this is going to be her last letter from Hunter, she wants to remember it all.

She can’t even respond, Bobbi realizes with a pang. She doesn’t know if it’ll endanger Hunter further, and if he is in trouble, she doesn’t want to make it worse. 

The sun begins to slip towards the horizon, and still Bobbi sits under the tree. She needs to get up soon - there’s a feast to plan for Daisy’s departure the next week - but she can’t bring herself to.

Mack comes to find her when the sun’s gone down, and Bobbi follows him silently back to the castle, still holding Hunter’s letter. The stars are beginning to peek out of the darkness, and she tries to comfort herself with the fact that Hunter’s watching the same stars.

It doesn’t work.


	7. of deception and despair

Bobbi’s week is, in a word, sad.

She doesn’t receive any more letters from Hunter, and Daisy’s departure is looming over her like a dark cloud. The princess is spending one last night in Codea before setting off for Clipeum in the morning, and then Bobbi will be alone again. Losing two friends in one fell swoop is like a knife to the heart, but she does her best not to show it. Strength and composure, she tells herself as she sits at dinner with Daisy, Jemma, and Elena. She’ll be fine.

They’re chattering about anything and everything - mostly Elena’s wedding plans and Bobbi’s lack thereof - when Mack bursts through the door, his face drawn into a frown deeper than any Bobbi’s seen before.

“Your Majesty. Duke Triplett and Sir Hunter to see you.” 

Bobbi’s heart leaps into her throat. “Let them in.”

Mack nods, exiting to the corridor and returning with the two men moments later. Both Trip and Hunter are covered in sweat and dirt, dishevelled and out of breath. Despite their generally sorry state, they both bow once the door’s been shut behind them.

“What brings you both here?” Bobbi suspects Mack already knows, and that the news is dire, if his expression is anything to go by.

“We have reason to believe that Garrett has sent agents to capture both yourself and Princess Daisy. Some of them might already be here, waiting for a signal to strike.” Trip’s gaze meets Bobbi’s, and his face is taut and shadowed. What he’s telling her amounts to treason, undermining the power and authority of his king. He hasn’t hesitated to divulge Garrett’s secrets, though - if anything, he appears more at peace once the words are out. “We…” Trip shakes his head, at a loss for words.

“We have reason to believe he aims to take over the continent using brute force,” Hunter says. “And that the plan started long before he was made king.” His hazel eyes darken, and Bobbi makes a note to ask Hunter what Garrett had done to meddle with Aurelie. She can’t imagine another reason he would look so mutinous.

“We believe the agents’ orders are to capture if possible, and to kill if not.” Trip’s face momentarily shifts into something less dire. “And if I know anything about the two of you…” Bobbi’s chest tightens. She would rather die than be taken by Garrett’s men, that’s for sure. Judging by Daisy’s fierce expression, she’s of the same persuasion.

“Based on the information Duke Triplett and Sir Hunter have given me, I’m not sure the castle is safe for you, Your Majesty.” Mack steps forward, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry to have failed you, Bobbi.”

Bobbi wants nothing more than to comfort him and assure him that none of this is his fault, but she knows her comfort will fall on deaf ears. The disappointment of being unable to console Mack settles in her stomach with the bitterness of betrayal and the fear of what this means for her and for her queendom. Elena steps forward to lay her hand on Mack’s arm, and Bobbi is satisfied that at least someone is able to make him feel better.

“If it’s not safe here, then we’ll go elsewhere,” Bobbi decides. She has several estates in the country, but most of them are known to be tied to her family. That leaves trying to find shelter in another part of the countryside, or leaving Codea. “Daisy’s meant to return to Clipeum anyways.”

“You’re welcome to come with me. My father will shelter you, I’m certain.” Bobbi only then realizes that Daisy is clutching onto Jemma’s hand, her grip white-knuckled.

“That won’t do us much good, will it?” Bobbi’s throat closes around the words. “If Garrett does desire to wipe us all off the map, then that’s easier done if we’re all together.” It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate Daisy’s offer, but Bobbi’s worried of what will come to her if she goes with Daisy to Clipeum. She has no doubt that King Phillip holds his daughter’s safety above all else, and if Bobbi is compromising that safety, she’ll find herself in an even worse position than before.

“Your Majesty.” Hunter steps forward. “Queen Isabelle would gladly host you in Aurelie.”

A shocked silence ripples through the assembled. Bobbi considers the proposition, then nods. “That’s amenable.” It’s a risk, but it’s less of a risk than going with Daisy to Clipeum. As much as she hates to admit it, Bobbi trusts Hunter. Enough, apparently, to follow him into the unknown.

“If we say you and the princess have taken ill, it may take longer for anyone to realize you’ve fled,” Elena suggests from her place at Mack’s side. “The fish didn’t sit well with either of you, perhaps?”

Daisy and Bobbi both nod their heads. Bobbi is thankful for Elena; even if the duchess is sometimes a bit hot-headed, she’s sharp, and above all, competent. She’ll do an admirable job holding the other nobles at bay when the questions inevitably arose.

“If you leave through the servants’ entrance, you won’t be seen,” Jemma pipes up. “We’ll have to change clothing and prepare rations.”

“We’ve already settled the rations,” Trip assures them. Bobbi pauses - did he know that she would agree to leave, or was he just hoping? At least it’s one less thing she has to do to prepare.

Bobbi, Jemma, and Daisy return to Bobbi’s quarters with Mack on their heels. Jemma produces three sets of clothing with remarkable speed, and Bobbi raises her eyes. “Where on earth did you get all those trousers, Jemma?”

Jemma looks at her with a wry smile, but doesn’t answer. Instead she begins pulling the pins out of both Daisy and Bobbi’s hair. They quickly tie their hair back into simple ponytails that are much more practical than their complicated chignons, pausing to look at themselves in the mirror. Bobbi hardly recognizes herself without a fancy dress or intricate hairdo, but she much prefers this look.

Jemma’s already bundled up a change of clothing for all of them. When they go to exit Bobbi’s chambers, though, Mack stops them. 

“That’s not necessary,” he says gruffly. He carefully removes the mirror from Bobbi’s wall, shoving his shoulder against the stone. Much to Bobbi’s surprise, the stone scrapes against the ground, swinging forward like a door to reveal a staircase spiralling down into what should have been solid wall.

“There’s a secret passage in my room and you didn’t tell me!?”

“You’d only use it to get into trouble.” Mack smiles fondly at her. “Now, hurry. Sir Hunter and Duke Triplett are waiting for you in the stables.” He hesitates, then claps a hand on Bobbi’s shoulder. “Stay safe, Barbara.”

Bobbi throws her arms around Mack in a tight hug, and he staggers back before catching her. He squeezes her tightly, the hug giving her strength. After a moment, he pushes her away gently. “Go.”

Bobbi nods. Hopefully this isn’t the last time she and Mack will be seeing each other. She doesn’t allow herself to linger on that thought - she doesn’t want to make Hunter or Trip wait any longer.

The secret passage is surprisingly easy to navigate; the steps are shallow enough that even in skirts Bobbi would’ve been able to go down them easily, and there aren’t a prohibitive amount of twists and turns. Bobbi tries to sketch a mental map of where in the castle she is, but she loses track somewhere during their descent. 

Jemma halts when they reach the end of the passage. Her shoulders rise and fall in a deep breath before she pushes the door open. The three of them scuttle out quickly, swinging the door shut quickly. It clicks shut behind them, and when Bobbi tests the knob, it doesn’t yield. 

“This way,” Jemma says, leading her friends through the corridors until they reach the servant’s entrance of the stable. Two horses already stand fully tacked in their stalls, and Hunter and Trip are each working on saddling up another.

Daisy makes her way over to Trip, Jemma trailing behind her. That leaves Bobbi free to approach Hunter without her friends giggling behind her back.

“Your Majesty,” Hunter greets, pausing in his work to bow to her. He doesn’t have much room for the maneuver in the stall, so he looks a tad ridiculous.

“Is that really necessary?” Bobbi asks with a sigh. She thought they’d gotten past that in their letters.

“Sorry, Bob.” Hunter’s lips quirk into a small smile, and a rush of warmth travels through Bobbi’s chest. That’s much better. “Not every monarch is as lax about titles and decorum as you are.” Bobbi’s eyes rake over Hunter, checking to see if Garrett had somehow punished him for being overly familiar. Hunter doesn’t look injured, which relieves Bobbi.

“I’m not lax with just anyone.” That grabs Hunter’s attention, and he stares at her with his wide hazel eyes for what feels like forever before he nods.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t write.” Hunter turns back to the horse abruptly, completing whatever task he had been working on before she had interrupted him. “At that point Trip and I had already gotten proof of the king’s plan, and we didn’t want to call any more attention to ourselves.”

“You did the right thing.” Bobbi slid into the stall beside him, touching his elbow with the tips of her fingers. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“The old bastard’s got nothing on me.” A smile flickers on Hunter’s face. “I was worried about you. Trip and I weren’t sure we’d make it in time.” The smile goes out, and Bobbi wants nothing more to make it return.

“But you did, and now we have a plan.” Admittedly not a very good or very specific plan, but a plan nonetheless.

“I did, and we do.” Hunter finishes saddling the horse, and he turns his full attention back to Bobbi. “And once we’re out of here, we can tell you more about what we found. We showed Mack, but you’ve had to take it on faith, and -”

“And there are few people I have more faith in than you and Trip,” Bobbi interjects. “I am quite fond of you… of both of you,” she says, hurrying to cover her admission. Hunter absolutely cannot know that she’s beginning to develop feelings for him that are romantic in nature - not after they had explicitly agreed that marriage was off the table. “And I know if anything happens to me, Mack will know exactly who to blame.” 

Bobbi smirks at Hunter, and his smile comes back as he steps towards her. He wraps his arm around her shoulder in a half-hug, which is really all their limited space will allow. The easiness of the gesture and the warmth behind it renders Bobbi speechless, and she allows herself to sink into him. She only barely resists the urge to nuzzle into Hunter’s neck and never emerge - though that seems like an excellent way to be rid of all her problems.

“Are you ready to go?” Trip calls from across the stable. Hunter withdraws his arm, and Bobbi immediately misses the comforting weight of it.

“We’re ready,” Hunter confirms. “Do you need help onto the horse?”

Bobbi shakes her head. She’s been riding since she was a child - and it’s much easier to mount a horse without a pile of skirts to rearrange. 

Hunter nods, leaving her to her own devices. Bobbi swings herself up onto the horse and urges it out of the stable and onto the dirt path just outside of it. Trip isn’t far behind her, and Daisy and Jemma follow him. Hunter brings up the rear, his bow and quiver slung over his shoulder. 

“We’ll ride to the Clipean border and cross the river together before you and Hunter head for Aurelie.” Trip and Hunter apparently had talked while they were saddling up the horses, and the plan makes sense - if there is any sort of scuffle, Trip and Hunter will both benefit from having another trained fighter at their backs.

Her dagger! Bobbi had been so quick to pull off her clothing that she hadn’t even considered to put her thigh holster back on. It and her dagger are in the heap of clothing on her bedchamber’s floor. Bobbi sighs forlornly. She’s far from an expert in hand-to-hand combat, but the dagger has always given her a sense of security.

“Everything alright?” Hunter asks, pulling his horse up beside her.

“Yes.” Bobbi bites her lip. “No. I left my dagger in the castle.” Needless to say, it’s too late to go back now.

“Here.” Hunter unclipping a sheath from his belt and handing it to her. Bobbi withdraws the dagger from the sheath and inspects it carefully. It’s nothing fancy, embossed with both the silver sun of Aurelie and Hunter’s own insignia on the hilt but no further ornamentation. She tests its weight in her hands, and when she looks back to Hunter he’s grinning at her.

“Satisfactory?” He asks teasingly.

“It’ll suffice.” Bobbi smiles as she clips the dagger to the simple leather belt she’s wearing, and finds that it makes her feel better. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you.” Hunter winks at her, and Bobbi is midway through rolling her eyes when he kicks his horse into a trot, pulling ahead of her.

She’d almost forgotten that they’re currently fleeing her castle and queendom. She directs her horse to follow Hunter’s, unsure of what route he and Trip are planning on taking. They’re currently engrossed in a conversation, their heads tilted upwards towards the stars that are beginning to appear in the night sky.

“Bobbi.” Jemma’s voice distracts her from surveying Trip and Hunter. “I’m coming with you to Aurelie.” It’s a declaration, not a request.

“I thought you’d want to stay with Daisy.” Bobbi isn’t going to deny Jemma if accompanying her to Aurelie is what her friend wants, but she’d gotten the impression that Jemma would prefer not to be separated from the princess.

“You need me more than she does,” Jemma says simply. “And I also need to make sure a certain knight doesn’t tarnish your honor.”

“He won’t.” Bobbi answers. In all the times they’ve been alone together, Hunter’s never been anything less than proper, except for when Bobbi’s begged for him to. “But if you want to come…”

“I do.” Jemma’s look brokers no argument, and Bobbi knows better than to disagree with her when she’s wearing it.

Hunter and Trip seem to have reached a consensus, and their horses change speed from trotting to cantering. Soon the castle grounds are behind them. Bobbi turns over her shoulder to watch as they draw further and further from the castle - the only home she’s ever known fading until it’s nothing more than a smudge on the horizon.


	8. of riding and rivers

They ride through the night and into morning; it’s only after they’re deep in the Codean countryside that Bobbi and her companions stop to rest. Daisy immediately settles herself at the base of one of the trees in the copse they’re sheltering under, and Jemma sits beside her. They lean into each other, and Bobbi’s gaze lingers on the pair. 

“Alright?” Hunter’s voice in her ear surprises her, and Bobbi jumps.

“Yes.” Bobbi smooths her hands down her trousers, forgetting that she’s not wearing skirts and that smoothing the fabric therefore looks ridiculous. “Just a little tired, I supposed.”

“Get some rest. Trip and I have things handled.” Hunter takes one of her hands and squeezes it gently. “Everything looks better after a nice nap and some food in your belly, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” Bobbi returns his squeeze before dropping their joined hands. Guilt nips at her for being unable to help out with setting up camp, but she’s thoroughly unskilled in this area. Give her a politician and she can talk him in a circle, but pitching a tent or starting a fire? Not skills anyone had ever thought to teach a queen.

She chooses a tree nearby to Daisy and Jemma’s, but not so close that it’s an invasion of privacy. The bark is hard against her back and the ground even harder beneath her, but Bobbi’s just glad to be off of the horse for the time being. She presses her fingers against the hilt of her borrowed dagger, assuring herself that it’s still there.

It’s impossible to sleep, really, but Bobbi dozes. The smallest noises wake her, but most of them are from Hunter or Trip moving around, and she falls back into her twilight state when she’s certain there’s no danger. Sometimes when Hunter notices her looking he flashes her a smile and that makes Bobbi feel just as safe as the dagger still under her hand.

An hour later they have a pair of pitched tents and a small, crackling fire to huddle around. The fire isn’t entirely necessary since the late spring air is soft and balmy, but it’s comforting and gives Bobbi a reason to press herself into Hunter’s side. 

The five of them pass around chunks of hard bread and dried meat from their rations, companionable silence punctuated by the sound of chewing. The meal is entirely underwhelming, but when it’s finished Bobbi feels better. Her stomach is no longer cramping uncomfortably and her brain is less foggy. She could still do with a full night’s sleep - preferably on Hunter’s shoulder, which is extraordinarily comfortable.

“We’ll cross the border between Codea and Clipeum early tomorrow,” Trip says as he finishes the last of his meal. “Hopefully if Garrett’s found out that you two aren’t in the castle he won’t be able to catch up to us by then.” Bobbi relaxes somewhat. Garrett wouldn’t risk his friendship with Coulson by ignoring sovereign boundaries, so as soon as they’re in Clipeum, they’ll be safe.

“What if we leave tonight?” Bobbi asks suddenly. 

“Tonight?” Trip repeats. He pauses, considering, then looks to Hunter. They have a silent conversation with their eyes, barely visible in the firelight. “It’s doable, but we’ll have to make camp as soon as we cross the river.”

Bobbi looks to Jemma and Daisy to see if either of them will protest. They don’t.

“All our hard work for naught,” Hunter says with a dramatic sigh. Bobbi’s forced to lift her head off his shoulder when he stands, making his way over to the tents. Her stomach twists when she realizes the effort Trip and Hunter put into making camp was for naught, but she doesn’t want to take back the suggestion now.

Besides, they’ll all sleep better knowing Garrett can’t get them.

Trip gives Bobbi the job of putting out the fire, and getting to kick dirt around sends a jolt of satisfaction through her. She smothers the fire and chokes the embers, making sure there’s not anything to show they had built a fire there.

Hunter comes to check on her after preparing the horses to ride again, and smiles at the area that used to be their fire circle. “You’re a woman of many talents.”

Bobbi snorts indelicately. “I’m not sure covering a fire requires any special skills.”

“Sure it does,” Hunter protests. “Attention to detail, for one. And time management. And… probably another, but I haven’t slept so I don’t have enough brain power to think of it.”

He does look tired. Bobbi reaches up to cup his face, running her thumb over the dark circles under his eyes. “I’m sorry.” She shouldn’t have suggested they keep riding - not if Hunter is this tired. Trip must be similarly ailed, but neither of them had shown their sleeplessness.

“It’ll be alright, Bob.” Hunter smiles at her, then gently removes her hand from his face. He kisses the back of her hand gently, his lips searing into her skin, before letting go of her. “Come on. We need to get going.”

Getting back on the horse takes a level of willpower Bobbi didn’t know she possessed, but she does it. Now that she’s noticed how exhausted Trip and Hunter must be, it’s all she can see as they ride closer and closer to the Clipean border. They both are bowed slightly forward on their horses, as if they can’t quite muster the energy to keep their heads up. They do manage to navigate just by the moonlight and the stars, though, which impresses Bobbi more than she’d like to admit.

Jemma spots the bridge first. “We’re almost there!” Her excited shout pierces through the quiet of the night, and startles both of the men. Daisy also sits up straighter, obviously excited by the prospect of being one step closer to home.

The river itself isn’t particularly wide or fast-moving (in fact, it looks rather lazy), but Bobbi’s sure that it’s quite deep - and who knew what kind of monsters could be hiding in its depths. The banks are shallow sloping enough that they could easily walk right to the water’s edge if they wanted to. Bobbi expects that if their canteens weren’t already full someone would’ve suggested doing just that to refill them.

The bridge over it is wide enough for them to ride three abreast and looks well-kept, but that’s hard to judge with so little light to go by. 

Even if the bridge is wide enough for three of them at once, they elect to ride single file. Trip goes first to check the bridge’s stability, and is rewarded by making it to the other side safely. Daisy follows him, and then Bobbi, Jemma, and Hunter.

They’re halfway across the bridge when Bobbi hears an odd creaking noise over the rush of the water. She turns around to look at Hunter, her brow furrowed. He looks unhappy but not alarmed, and motions for her to continue on. 

Bobbi’s few paces away from the end of the bridge when the creaking sound stops.

_ Crack _ .

The board beneath her horse’s front feet snaps in half. It stumbles, trying to find purchase, but the air is filled with popping sounds as more of the wooden planks composing the bridge buckle. Bobbi can just make out the look of horror on Trip’s face before she, Jemma, and Hunter are sent plunging into the river beneath them.

When she lands in the water, Bobbi can’t tell which way is up.  She tumbles and flips and tries to search for air, but starlight and polished pebbles look awfully similar through murky river water and the veil of panic. Her lungs begin to burn, and Bobbi kicks out blindly, hoping she’s chosen the right direction.

She has.

The first gasp of air  _ hurts _ . The second feels better, and the third even better than that. Bobbi coughs, beginning to tread water as she searched for Hunter and Jemma. The water seems to be moving a lot faster now that she’s in it, and Bobbi curses herself for ever thinking it looked lazy.

Hunter resurfaces a half-second after she has the thought, and the panic clutching at Bobbi’s chest eases somewhat. She waits for Jemma’s familiar brunette head to emerge from the churning river, but it doesn’t.

“Get to shore!” Hunter calls over the sound of the rushing water. “I’ll find her!” He doesn’t give Bobbi a moment to protest before diving back into the river, leaving her to paddle to shore. She’s lucky that her parents took her for summers on the lake, Bobbi thinks as she makes her way to the river’s edge. She’s even luckier she wasn’t foolish enough to try to swim against the current. With everything else that’s gone on in this damnably long day she wouldn’t have lasted if she tried to fight it.

Bobbi heaves herself onto the river bank, feeling much more like a drowned animal than a queen. Their actual animals seemed to have made it out alright - the three horses are all on the bank a few dozen paces away, looking disgruntled but no worse for the wear. They even have all of their tack still on, the saddle bags still securely fastened. 

Trip scrambled down the bank to where Bobbi is, but she’s not concerned with him checking her over. Her eyes are still fastened on the river, where Hunter still has yet to re-emerge. Jemma’s been down for a long while and the worry in her stomach has transformed into cold, hard fear. Even if she hadn’t just pulled herself from the water Bobbi’s hands would still be clammy from the anxiety of the wait. 

After what feels like forever but is only a matter of seconds, Hunter’s head bobs up - and then Jemma’s. Bobbi tries to breathe a sigh of relief but she can’t manage it, not when Jemma looks so pale in Hunter’s arms. 

Hunter gets them both to shore, and the sound of Jemma’s spluttering is sweet music in Bobbi’s ears. She’s alive. 

Daisy begins fussing over Jemma before Bobbi even has the chance to, pushing Jemma’s hair back from her face before pulling her in for a solid kiss. Bobbi looks away from them, wondering how she always manages to feel like she’s butting in on their intimate moments. 

She focuses instead on Hunter. He’s still lying on the bank, face down and breathing heavily. Bobbi crawls towards him, settling herself by his head. She cards her fingers through his hair, hoping that the movement won’t disturb him while still letting him know that she’s there. 

Bobbi tries not to think about how Daisy had kissed Jemma, how the palpable relief in the princess’s eyes was mirrored in Bobbi’s own when she had seen that Hunter was okay. She doesn’t let herself imagine how Hunter’s lips would feel, or how his mouth would taste - she just keeps running her hands through his hair. 

“Are you okay?” Bobbi asks when Hunter’s breathing has evened out. 

Hunter shakes his head slowly, and once again Bobbi finds herself struggling to breathe because of fear. 

“What’s wrong?” Her voice trembles, and that catches Hunter’s attention enough to make him lift his head from the grass. 

“I’m fine physically,” Hunter assures her softly, though the fatigue in his voice begs to differ. “I’m sorry I failed you, Your Majesty.”

Bobbi wants to throttle him. She settles instead for dropping her hand from his hair and leaning down so she’s closer to Hunter’s level. “You have  _ not  _ failed me. The bridge failed, Hunter. Not you.”

“The letters are gone,” Hunter says, voice breaking. “The letters are in my saddlebag, and the water…” He flops back onto the grass, and Bobbi’s stomach twists. She still doesn’t think that Garrett’s letters being ruined constitutes a failure, and certainly not a large enough one to make him this distraught.

“I believe you. I don’t need to see the letters.” Bobbi would have certainly liked to see them, but she can’t imagine Hunter or Trip going through this much trouble for nothing. She straightens, looking over to where Trip is tending to the horses. He seems to have had the same thought as Hunter, and he’s checking the begs. Even if they were tightly closed, it looks like Hunter’s fears had come true; the wad of papers Trip is holding is soggy, and though she can’t see from this distance in the low light, Bobbi suspects the ink has dissolved into an illegible mess.

She’s very happy she left her letters with Hunter on her bureau in the castle - she wouldn’t have wanted them to meet the same fate.

“Coulson does.” Bobbi winces, because she doesn’t have a good refute for that. Weighing Garrett’s word against Hunter and Trip’s had been easy for her, but it won’t be nearly as easy for Coulson. Maybe Daisy will sway him.

“It’ll sort itself out,” Bobbi says, because she doesn’t have any other comfort. “And if it doesn’t, we’ll make it sort out.”

Hunter lifts his head again. His smile is cautious, but it’s there.

“Are you done moping now?” Bobbi asks. Hunter’s smile grows at her teasing. He pushes himself to sitting, and Bobbi is mesmerized by the flex of his muscles clearly visible beneath the wet fabric clinging to his arms.

“You all should get into some dry clothes.” Bobbi’s head jerks towards Trip, and when her mind catches up with her body, she nods. 

They troop over to a small cluster of trees for shelter. Hunter busies himself with unpacking the damp garments so they can be hung out to dry, and Trip and Daisy find clothing that will fit Hunter, Jemma, and Bobbi for the time being. Bobbi and Jemma duck behind trees for privacy’s sake, but Hunter and Trip are too busy once again setting up camp to bother peeping.

Half an hour later, Hunter still hasn’t changed out of his wet things. Bobbi marches over to where he’s gathering firewood and grabs his arm. She pulls him over to where Trip’s laid out spare clothing for him amidst a flurry of protests, and silently points to them. 

Bobbi uses all the queenly presence she can muster when she glares at him. “Change before you catch your death.” The night is still warm, but she can’t imagine that walking around in a wet tunic and trousers is any fun. Hunter doesn’t deserve to be miserable, but it seems his personal comfort means little to him. Her worry, however, means much more.

What Bobbi isn’t expecting is for Hunter to take his shirt off right then and there. She squeaks, and while her first instinct is to shut her eyes, she doesn’t. 

Hunter’s naked torso takes her breath away for more reasons than one. The first, most obvious one, is that she is seeing a man half-naked, and that’s not at all proper. The second is that she’s  _ enjoying _ seeing a man naked, more than she ought to. Hunter’s muscles are even more sculpted than Bobbi would have guessed, and she can’t look away from the lines of his pectorals and the cut of his abdominals.

Then there’s the scar. Under different circumstances it’s what Bobbi would’ve noticed first, because it stretches across Hunter’s chest in a jagged line. It’s faded and puckered around the edges, indicating an old wound. Irrational anger bubbles up in Bobbi. The wound looks as if it could’ve easily been fatal, and she wants to hurt whoever had hurt him. 

“Ugly, isn’t it?” Hunter asks as he stoops to pick up the new tunic.

Bobbi doesn’t know how to say that she could never find any part of Hunter ugly, so instead she just shakes her head.

She does look away when he changes his trousers, her mind still swirling with images of a young Hunter nearly falling to a sword. Somehow that’s become the most disturbing thing that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.

At least the day is finally over. They separate into the two tents, the women in one and the men in the other. Jemma and Daisy cuddle chest-to-chest, whispering softly to each other. Bobbi lays alone, and imagines a pair of warm arms wrapping around her as she finally drifts into a deep sleep.


	9. of sickness and secrets

The sound of coughing fills the tent, jerking Bobbi from sleep into waking in one large tug. She whips her head around, trying to find the source of the noise, until her eyes land on Jemma. Her friend is still in Daisy’s arms, pressed against her girlfriend’s chest, but she looks much worse than she did last night. Her skin is unnaturally pale, save for the apples of her cheeks, which are flushed pink.

“She has a fever,” Daisy whispers, fear creeping into her voice.

Bobbi’s body goes cold. Her parents had started with just fevers and coughs, and she had buried them within the fortnight. Her heart begins pounding hard against her sternum and her tongue is thick in her mouth. She tries to get words out - she needs to comfort Daisy, that’s what she’s supposed to be doing - but her throat is closing and she can’t breathe right. 

The canvas walls of the tent are closing in on her, and Bobbi needs to get away. She scrambles back from Daisy and Jemma, searching for the flap that will let her out. She fumbles until she finds it, pitching forward onto the grass outside with a strangled gasp of relief.

Bobbi separates herself from the rest of the camp site, trying her best to calm her racing heart. The cool morning air helps steal the flush from her cheeks but the knot of panic in her stomach simply won’t go away. She tries counting her breaths, but that fails. So does distracting herself with trying to name the birds in the trees; the only ones she recognizes are mockingbirds. Bobbi’s searching for another distraction when she hears footsteps behind her.

When she turns, Hunter’s there. He’s still a fair distance away, and doesn’t seem intent on getting any closer.

“Just wanted to make sure you didn’t wander too far,” he explains without prompting. “I’ll leave you.”

“Stay.” Bobbi whispers, barely loud enough for him to hear. She knows she’s not strong enough to watch him walk away - not when his very presence eases her discomfort. 

Hunter doesn’t make to move towards her, so Bobbi closes the gap between them instead, moving until they’re within a comfortable speaking distance. She wants to get closer - close enough for him to hug her again, and tell her in his soothing voice that everything is going to be alright - but restrains herself.

He reaches his hand out for her, and Bobbi grabs it like a lifeline. Her insides still feel tight and twisted, but at least now she has a tether to reality. Hunter begins circling his thumb along the back of her hand, and with each gentle motion Bobbi unravels a little more.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, you know.” The comment comes out of nowhere, and Bobbi turns to Hunter with a steely glint in her eyes.

“Yes, I do. I’m the queen.”

“That doesn’t mean that you have to do it all on your own, Bob.” Hunter’s thumb is still rubbing hypnotic circles into her skin. “There are people who want to help you. You need to let someone in.”

“I  _ can’t _ .” Bobbi’s voice shakes perilously when the words come unbidden out of her mouth. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Why?” Hunter asks. “I want to understand, but you need to let me try.” His hazel eyes are pleading, and Bobbi wishes she could give him an answer - any answer.

She wants to let him in, but she doesn’t know how.

Bobbi gives up. She pulls her hand from Hunter’s so she can wrap her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. He doesn’t hesitate before winding his arms around her waist, holding her close. She doesn’t remember anyone ever holding her like this before, fierce and gentle at the same time. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, turning to press her face into his neck.

“Don’t be. We’ll figure it out.” Hunter has apparently devoted himself to discovering why Bobbi has built a barricade around her heart. Her initial instinct is to be afraid - the tearing down of walls is a violent thing - but the fear doesn’t stay long. It can’t, because she knows Hunter won’t hurt her. He’ll take the walls down brick by brick if he has to.

When they let go of each other, Bobbi feels lighter than she did before. She has hope, which is a foreign feeling after the events of the last day.

“Do you want to go back?”

“Not really.” She should, especially now that the last of the panic is gone, but she doesn’t want to.

She doesn’t get much of a choice when Trip comes to fetch her two minutes later. She and Hunter had spent the time in companionable silence, and sometime in the interim they had begun holding hands. Bobbi doesn’t let go even when they get back to the camp. 

“Jemma’s going to come home with me,” Daisy announces. “So she can see a physician sooner rather than later.” Jemma nods her agreement. 

It stings. Not only has Bobbi failed her queendom, she’s also managed to fail her best friend. Maybe Jemma going with Daisy isn’t a failure, but it feels like one. Bobbi’s glad for Hunter’s hand in hers, and even gladder when he gives her a reassuring squeeze. 

The parting is subdued, mostly because there’s little to say that hasn’t already been said. Bobbi wants to tell Jemma something, anything, but her heart feels like it’s one word away from breaking. A hug serves where words will not, and just like that, she and Hunter are alone.

\---

Setting up camp for two people is very different from setting up camp for five, Bobbi finds. It’s also entirely different because now they’re on the edges of the forest that will, in another day’s ride, become the Forest of Lehigh. They’re almost to Aurelie.

Hunter respected her need for silence through most of the ride, but now they’re at their camp, Bobbi can hardly avoid talking to him.

The problem is, after their conversation this morning, Bobbi doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t want to do small talk, and make him think that she’s trying to shut him out, but she is entirely too fragile to talk about anything more than that.

The reality of her situation is finally hitting. She had no queendom, she has no home, she doesn’t even have Jemma anymore. Everything she loves has been taken from her, except for her dreadfully handsome and confoundingly loyal knight.

Hunter sits on the opposite side of their small fire, his bow across his lap. He appears to be fixing the string, but Bobbi doesn’t know enough about archery to be entirely sure he’s doing something substantial instead of just trying to keep his hands busy.

“Are you excited to go home?”

Hunter looks up from his bow and shrugs. 

Bobbi hadn’t expected that reaction. She had gotten the impression that Hunter and his mother were close, and she would’ve expected that he’s at least excited to see her again. Bobbi leans forward and props her chin on her hand, inviting him to say more.

Hunter shrugs again. “Some weren’t happy the queen decided to end our isolation. I doubt they’ll be happy that I came back with a stray.” He cracks a small smile at the end of his sentence, and Bobbi rolls her eyes. Stray isn’t the worst way to say refugee, especially not when it’s accompanied by that smile.

“And I failed to bring back Garrett’s notes,” Hunter adds, almost as an afterthought.

“Did he do something to Aurelie?” Bobbi asks, tilting her head.

Hunter sets his bow on the ground, and is quiet for a long time. Bobbi’s not surprised when he does finally nod.

“Garrett’s the one who hired the assassin who killed the king and the boy prince.” Hunter’s voice is thick, and he won’t meet Bobbi’s eyes. “It was all written down and sealed, plain as day, like he didn’t even care enough to hide that he -” Hunter’s hands balled into fists, and even in the firelight Bobbi could see his jaw clench and release as he tried to get a handle on his anger.

“Duke Creel?” Hunter asks after a long pause. Bobbi nods in recognition of the name. Creel had been one of the many granted a title after Garrett had taken the crown. “His brother, Carl, was the one who committed the murders. He was killed in a scuffle with the palace guards, but his family was still granted favor by Garrett.”

Horror creeps through Bobbi’s veins like molten lead, weighing her down. “I’m sorry.”

“The only one who should be sorry is that snake,” Hunter spits. “He’s lucky I had to leave to get you, because if I hadn’t, I would’ve…” Hunter huffs out a breath, flexing his fingers again. 

“What about me?” Bobbi asks. “What did his letters say about me?” There hadn’t been an appropriate time to ask about the letters’ contents earlier, but now Bobbi’s curiosity is getting the better of her.

Hunter’s face gets even more grave, if that’s possible. “It’s not pretty.”

“Considering it was enough to make me flee my country and you just told me he orchestrated two assassinations, I’m not expecting sunshine and rainbows.” Bobbi lifts her head from her hand, staring Hunter down. “Tell me.”

“He… Bobbi, he…” Hunter swallows hard. “One of his people, Whitehall, has been experimenting with sicknesses for years. Infecting rats and livestock and the like.”

Bobbi sees where this is going before Hunter says it. Tears begin to prickle at the back of her eyes, but she waits for Hunter to finish what he’s saying. “Whitehall engineered a plague to infect the royal family, and…”

“And it got to Codea.” It killed her parents.

Garrett killed her parents.

Garrett killed her parents.

Garrett  _ killed her parents.  _

The thought won’t stop repeating in her head, and every time it gets more unbelievable and more distressing.

Bobbi lurches to her feet, the same call that had dragged her out of the tent that morning commanding her to get the hell away from Hunter.

It’s not his fault. Bobbi knows it’s not his fault, but he should’ve told her earlier, he should’ve, he should’ve -

She runs away, and Hunter doesn’t follow her. Bobbi isn’t in control of her body. She’s a puppet and the only thing jerking on her strings is the desperation swirling in the pit of her stomach. She needs something, but she doesn’t know what. She had thought her panic that morning had been bad, but this is a hundred times worse. 

She’s hollow, and those stupid words are still echoing inside all her empty space.

Garrett -

Bobbi doesn’t want to think them again. She doesn’t want to do anything.

She slumps at the base of a tree, knees drawn to her chest and tears staining her cheeks. 

She sleeps.

\---

When Bobbi wakes up she’s covered in something that, upon closer inspection, turns out to be Hunter’s nice cloak. Her head pounds when she levers herself to standing, and she leans back against the tree for support.

“Hunter?” She calls tentatively. She wasn’t in her right mind when she found her way to this tree, and Bobbi knows without a doubt she won’t be able to find her way back to the camp. Hunter had found her, though, and she’s hoping he’s still nearby.

He drops out of one of the trees without preamble, barely making a sound when he alights on the ground.

“You should’ve told me.” The words catch unpleasantly in the dryness of her throat, and she feels like she’s about to cry again.

“I should’ve. I’m sorry.” Hunter hesitates as if to say something more, but doesn’t. Bobbi’s glad. She feels like she’s been flung around, emotions soaring from high to low to even lower, and she’d rather not have anything else added to the burden. She doesn’t know why everything seemed to come at once, but she doesn’t like it.

Hunter begins walking back in a direction that Bobbi assumes will lead them back to camp. A morning breeze blows through the trees, and Bobbi pulls Hunter’s cloak tighter around her shoulders. The fabric is thick and plush and keeps out the chill. It smells like Hunter, too, and Bobbi buries her nose in it for just a moment, inhaling deeply.

She’s angry at him, but what Garrett did isn’t his fault. Bobbi’s stuck between allowing herself to feel the anger and quashing it down. She doesn’t want to spend the next days miserable because she’s upset with her only companion, who also happens to be one of the people she trusts most in the world.

“There’s probably something else I should tell you…” Hunter says hesitantly when they’re back at camp.

“About Garrett?” Bobbi doesn’t need another gut punch so soon after the last.

“No. About me.” He looks at her with sad eyes, and Bobbi shakes her head at him. She doesn’t want to be angry anymore, and she’s cried herself out. 

“Unless you’re planning to kill me before we reach Aurelie or you’re going to tell me something I want to hear, I’d rather you wait.” 

Hunter’s lips quirk up into a small smile. “Murdering you is the last thing on my to-do list, darling.”

“So it is on the list?” Bobbi asks. This is easy - bantering with him and ignoring the ball of emotions still rolling around in her stomach.

“Have to get my cloak back somehow.” He winks at her, and Bobbi’s hand goes to the cloak’s clasp at her throat.

“You could’ve just asked,” she says as she begins to fumble with it, trying to get the cloak off. The clasp is solid and difficult to undo one-handed.

“I didn’t mean it, Bob.” Hunter stops what he’s doing with the tent, smiling softly at her. “It looks better on you anyways.”

“But it’s a gift from your mother,” Bobbi protests. She doesn’t want to take it from him, especially when it has such sentimental value.

“I’d rather you have it,” he repeats. “It’ll keep you safe.” Bobbi doesn’t know what to make of that. Hunter resumes his deconstruction of the tent. “Speaking of safety, I’m going to teach you how to properly use that dagger. I reckon they just taught you the sissy stuff.”

Bobbi snorts. “The sissy stuff, huh?”

“Yeah. The stuff that it’s not inappropriate for a woman to know.” Hunter has a scoff in his voice when he says it, and Bobbi quite agrees with his derision. Propriety hadn’t done anything to help her against Garrett so far - maybe knowing the less ladylike skills would’ve done more for her. “I’m going to teach you the things that are actually useful.”

“I look forward to it.” Bobbi feels better. (She wishes he didn’t always make her feel better.)

Hunter’s cloak is on her shoulders, his dagger in her belt, and his promise in her heart. Bobbi believes what he said earlier: he will keep her safe.  
  



	10. of teaching and truths

Entering the Forest of Lehigh is like entering an entirely different world. Objectively, it should be like every other forest she’s ever been in, but it’s not. Bobbi finds it rather spooky, even though there’s enough light shining in through the treetops to see through and Hunter is more relaxed than he’s ever been.

“Watch this.” His voice catches her attention, and she turns to see him stand in his stirrups. Hunter places one foot on the saddle and then the other until he’s standing on his horse’s back. It’s an impressive trick in itself, but it’s even more impressive when Hunter disappears with nothing more than a rustle of leaves. His mount doesn’t seem perturbed, continuing to trot along as if it wasn’t just divested of its rider.

Bobbi squints at the trees, trying to follow Hunter’s path. She can’t be sure whether she’s catching sight of her knight or simply a bird fluttering its wings, though, and it’s with great shock that she turns back to the path ahead of her and finds Hunter lounging against a tree like he’s been there for ages.

“Show off.” Her insult lacks any sting, and Hunter just grins at her as she pulls her horse to a stop. His stops as well, but Hunter makes no move to mount again.

“You know, I did promise to teach you to climb a tree.” His grin takes on a decidedly mischievous air before he continues. “You’re not wearing any skirts so you can’t even accuse me of trying to look up them.”

Bobbi laughs, startling herself. The past few days have been so dire that laughter felt far, far out of the realm of possibility. She should’ve known that if anyone could make her feel merry again, it would be Hunter.

“A break from riding would be welcome.” Bobbi swings down from her mount, stretching her aching muscles. This is now the third day in a row they’re planning to do nothing but ride, and her body is entirely unprepared for the change from constantly sitting still on a throne. She hopes that tree-climbing will, at least, make different muscles sore. “You also promised to teach me more about using a dagger,” she adds, lest he forget.

“I have made a great many promises to you, haven’t I?” Bobbi can’t decide if she loves or hates it when Hunter’s voice goes soft like this. She chews on her lip, choosing to nod at him rather than risk her own voice betraying her.

“I will make good on both of them,” Hunter declares. “We can spare some hours, so long as you don’t mind arriving at the castle on the morrow instead of tonight.”

As it happens, Bobbi does not mind at all. The comfort of a bed and perhaps a bath will not be unwelcome when it comes, but Bobbi fears if she doesn’t take Hunter up on his offer now, she’ll never have the opportunity again.

They set up camp quickly - Hunter takes the time to show her how the tent is pitched and a fire made, which Bobbi appreciates. After all the logistical things are figured out and lunch is in their bellies, Hunter spends the time filling his promises. It’s only when the sun goes down and they can no longer see the branches in front of their faces nor the glint of the sunlight off the daggers that he calls them to rest. They eat a quick supper, and only when it is finished does Bobbi realize there is only one tent.

Her traitorous memory dredges up the night after they fell into the river when she wished for his arms around her. Now it seems that might become a reality. Bobbi waits for several long seconds before ducking into the tent after Hunter.

He situates himself on the far side, and Bobbi knows better than to place herself next to him, as much as she wants to. Instead she makes her bed on the other side of the tent. They’re still only a few feet away from each other, but it might as well be miles.

Hunter bids her a fond goodnight, which she returns. Her body is heavy enough that Bobbi can’t spend much time worrying about the implications of their positions before she falls into a deep, restful slumber.

\---

There’s an unfamiliar weight around Bobbi’s waist when she wakes up, and it takes her much longer than it should to realize that the weight is Hunter’s arm. They’d gotten close during the night, so close that now Hunter’s breath tickles the back of her neck. It’s warm and soothing, and she wants nothing more than to drift right back to sleep, but Bobbi knows better. It’s not proper for them to be so close together, and Hunter had obviously separated himself from her for a reason. She won’t betray his wishes.

Bobbi wriggles out from underneath Hunter’s arm, watching him for a moment to ensure her movements hadn’t woken him. He remains sleeping, and she smiles to herself. He’s been exhausting himself, and he needs the extra rest.

She ducks out of the tent, pulling Hunter’s cloak over her shoulders to fight against the chill of the morning air. It hadn’t been necessary in the tent with Hunter’s body heat to warm her, but it certainly is now. She grabs her dagger, too, though she doesn’t anticipate needing it - they haven’t seen anyone since entering the forest.

Bobbi’s itching to have another go at climbing trees before she’s stuck on a horse again. She doesn’t bother moving far from the camp, though she does wait until she finds a tree with relatively low-hanging branches to attempt to boost herself up into one. Her first attempt is awkward, but once she’s in the tree and has the trunk to brace herself on, scuttling up higher is an easy thing.

Getting back down proves a different kind of challenge, and Bobbi curses none too softly as she tries to get back on solid ground without breaking her neck. She manages it, only just.

As soon as her feet are firmly planted, though, there’s an arm around her waist and a knife held to her neck. Bobbi doesn’t need to look to know that the man holding her isn’t Hunter. Even if she could believe that he would hold a knife to her throat, this isn’t his arm, and the voice that growls into her ear isn’t his.

“It looks like you have some things that don’t belong to you, little girl.”

Bobbi bristles at the nickname he chooses. The man standing behind her must be her height or a little shorter, judging by the angle he’s holding her throat by, so the  _ little _ is particularly grating. 

“They’re gifts,” she grates out. She wants to do something, anything, but even if trying to escape wouldn’t likely result in her exsanguinating, Bobbi’s not sure she’d be able to. Her joints are stiff and her muscles are locked into place. It’s like rigor mortis before she’s even dead.

“Gifts from who, hmmm?” The voice hisses, still uncomfortably close to her ear.

“Hunter.” The man holding her seems to falter when she gives him the name he expects, but instead of using that to her advantage like she knows she ought to, Bobbi just welcomes the brief reprieve from the cold metal on her throat.

“Let go of her, Idaho!” Hunter’s voice has never been so welcome a sound, nor his face so welcome a sight. The arm around her slackens and Bobbi stumbles forward a few steps. She straightens, running her fingers along the neck where the dagger had been. There’s no blood at all, and she wonders if the man - Idaho - had been bluffing or if he really would’ve slit her throat. 

“Hunter. Why does she have your cloak and dagger?” 

“I gave them to her.” Idaho seems shocked when Hunter corroborates her story, and Bobbi resists the urge to do something childish like stick out her tongue. “She’s a friend.” Hunter places himself at Bobbi’s shoulder, and she feels stronger than she did a moment ago.

“A friend, huh?” Idaho, eyes flicking between them. 

“Yes, a friend,” Hunter repeats. “Go to the castle and tell the queen we’re coming. She should be expecting me.” The air of authority that his voice takes on surprises Bobbi, but Idaho takes it in stride. If he’s upset with Hunter bossing him around, he doesn’t show it.

“Sorry, lady,” Idaho offers to Bobbi before nodding once more at Hunter and vaulting himself into the trees. Hunter scans the canopy, and after a half minute seems satisfied Idaho is gone.

He pulls Bobbi into a hug; she’s not sure who it’s meant to comfort. She doesn’t care - holding him close shouldn’t need a reason in the first place.

“If something like that ever happens again, you stab first and ask questions later, understand?” Hunter asks as he pulls away. Bobbi nods. She doesn’t know why she didn’t just stab Idaho - it was like she had been frozen in place by fear.

She doesn’t like being afraid.

“Bob?” Hunter coaxes her out of her thoughts. 

“I’m fine.” She pauses. “I can’t spend the rest of my life letting other people save me, Hunter.” It’s already grating on her how little choice she has. She’s a queen. She’s supposed to be in control of her life, not constantly at the mercy of everyone else’s choices.

“I know the feeling.” Bobbi meets Hunter’s eyes, and there’s no pity in them - just the steadfast compassion and understanding that she’s come to recognize and appreciate. “You’ll find a way.”

She smiles her thanks, and Hunter jostles her shoulder companionably. “Let’s finish striking camp. We’ll be at the castle soon.”

Bobbi pushes down the nerves that threaten to overwhelm her. Hunter seems sure of their welcome, but it’s not his life that will be forfeit if the queen doesn’t allow them to stay. The ride to the castle is, as promised, fairly short - at least compared to the days previous.

Idaho meets them at the gates, smiling. “Her Majesty is waiting for you in the throne room.”

“Thank you.” Hunter dismounts his horse and helps Bobbi down from hers - unnecessarily, she might add.

“I should probably take this back. Wouldn’t want the queen getting any ideas.” A pang goes through Bobbi as Hunter unfastens the cloak and throws it carelessly around his own shoulders. Bobbi wants to ask him what kind of ideas the queen shouldn’t be getting, but she’s learned to stop asking questions she doesn’t want to know the answers to.

Hunter offers her his arm, and Bobbi takes it, suppressing a sigh. Even if riding all day had been miserable, spending time with her friends, and then Hunter, without any prying eyes had been freeing. She would never run away from her responsibilities, but she wishes keenly that there were more opportunities for her to be just Bobbi.

Hunter leads them to the throne room. Rather than wait for the servants to announce them, he walks through the door with confident, easy strides. Queen Isabelle sits on her throne, resplendent in a dark blue gown. Bobbi feels underdressed, and even more vulnerable when Hunter releases her arm.

“Your Majesty.” Hunter bows deeply. It’s the first bow Bobbi’s seen from his that lacks his normal teasing or theatrics; he is reverent. “May I present to you Her Majesty Barbara Morse, Queen of Codea.”

Bobbi curtseys after the introduction, trying to look as regal as possible despite her lack of skirts or other finery. 

“Thank you, Hunter.” Queen Isabelle inclines her head towards the knight and then turns her focus to Bobbi. She has kind blue eyes that remind Bobbi of her own mother’s, and Bobbi’s heart twists. “Your Majesty. I should have hoped to meet you again under better circumstances.”

Bobbi tilts her head slightly to the side, the usage of the word ‘again’ catching her attention. The queen’s eyes sparkle. “We have much to discuss. Would you follow me?” Bobbi hesitates, but when she looks to Hunter, he’s already moving to follow Queen Isabelle. The trio makes their way from the throne room to a small chamber just down the corridor. The two queens enter. Bobbi turns to invite Hunter in after them, but he shakes his head.

“I’ll go prepare the guest chambers.” Bobbi can’t read the look on Hunter’s face, and it worries her.

The door shuts with a resolute  _ thunk _ , leaving Bobbi alone with Queen Isabelle. The queen sits at the small table in the center of the room, and Bobbi follows to sit opposite of her.

“The last time I saw you was when you were a child. Your parents were interested in arranging a meeting between their newborn daughter and my son. They hoped for a future marriage, and the joining of our queendoms.” There is no sorrow in her gaze even when she speaks of her departed child, and Bobbi’s respect for the queen grows. She has the strength Bobbi wishes for herself. “I should offer my condolences for their loss. They were excellent people and I was lucky to count them friends.”

Bobbi’s mouth twists down. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I didn’t realize you knew them.”

“Not a surprise.” Once again, the queen doesn’t look upset - just resigned. “It’s my fault our relationship ended. Cutting off communication tends to do that.”

Bobbi doesn’t know how to respond - everything she can think to say is either impolite or a bold-faced lie.

“The past is the past,” Queen Isabelle says wistfully. “I want to talk about our future. I understand we have a common enemy.”

Bobbi nods. “Garrett.” Even saying his name is enough to make her blood boil.

“Garrett,” Queen Isabelle repeats. “I’m sure you understand why I’m eager to be rid of him.”

“Sir Hunter told me, yes.” 

“You trust him?” The queen’s eyes are suddenly sharp and searching.

Bobbi lifts her chin. “I have trusted Hunter with my life more than once over, and I know of no reason why he would lie to me. Am I wrong to put my faith in him?”

Fear lurches through her when Queen Isabelle fails to respond immediately. She murmurs something under her breath. Strain as she might Bobbi can’t hear until the queen raises her voice. “You’re fond of him.”

Bobbi doesn’t know how she could’ve been so transparent. She considers lying but doubts the queen would believe her. “I am.” It’s the first time she’s admitted her feelings for Hunter aloud, and Bobbi’s stomach squirms.

“You are not wrong to believe him a good man or to trust him,” Queen Isabelle admits after another long pause. 

“You do.” There’s no other explanation for why she would allow Hunter to travel the continent in her stead.

“Of course I do.” The silence in the room swallows Bobbi whole, until…

“He’s my son.”


	11. of soup and surprises

It shouldn’t feel like this.

It’s like Bobbi’s chest has caved in and her insides are being destroyed by the pressure. Her heart might be crushed or it might have ceased to exist at all - she doesn’t know which. Her lungs are struggling to get in enough air, but Bobbi refuses to hyperventilate or show Queen Isabelle how the news has affected her. Keeping the color from rising in her cheeks is a demanding task, but Bobbi’s stubbornness finally has a purpose and she manages to keep herself from reacting like a child throwing a tantrum.

Hunter lied to her. It shouldn’t matter, because she’s fond of him but they have no agreement between them. She’s not entitled to know his secrets any more than he’s entitled to know hers, and it should be fine.

But it’s not fine, because she had been ready to let him in. If she had, it would’ve been disaster.

She swallows around the lump in her throat, ignores the pain in her heart, and nods. “Thank you for informing me.”

Queen Isabelle looks at her strangely, but Bobbi stares back with all the serenity she has in her. She refuses to let the other queen think of her as a snivelling child. She can care about Hunter’s betrayal later, when she’s not in the middle of a diplomatic discussion.

“Of course. Now, on the subject of Garrett again, there’s some information I must share with you.” Bobbi’s never been so glad for a subject change in her life, and she nods for Queen Isabelle to continue.

“Before Aurelie closed its borders, several families left. Some of them left of their own volition, and others I sent away, not for any wrongdoing but because I believed they might one day become necessary.” Bobbi’s first impulse is to ask after the Simmons family - it isn’t unreasonable to believe that Jemma was left in the dark about the true purpose of her family’s emigration - but she bites her tongue. There are more pressing issues at hand, like what Queen Isabelle is about to tell her.

“One of my most trusted friends has become a part of King Garrett’s court. She can provide assistance to us, but we still need a plan for how our operatives will get in, and how we’ll be able to get Garrett out alive.”

Bobbi’s eyebrow ticks up at the mention of a sleeper agent within Garrett’s inner circle, but again, she’s unable to pursue that line of questioning.

Queen Isabelle calls a servant for a piece of parchment and a quill, and she and Bobbi spend the next several hours brainstorming how best to achieve their goal. At the end of it, they have several plans, but one in particular seems promising. The only issue with it is its reliance on a sedative they haven’t yet created. It’s a good idea, to make something non-lethal to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, but Bobbi doesn’t know who to trust and is sure that trying to make it on her own is a bad idea. In the end she decides it’s best not to ask anyone for aid at all; it’s for the better that as few people as possible know she’s in Aurelie to begin with

Queen Isabelle shows her down to the royal laboratory. Loneliness and longing nips at Bobbi. Jemma would know what to do if she were here. Instead she’s in Clipeum with a princess she knew was a princess from the start.

Bobbi shoves down her annoyance at Hunter, focusing on the empty work bench in front of her.  _ What would Jemma do?  _ She would start by listing possible ingredients to use. Bobbi’s herbology skills had improved somewhat since Daisy had insisted on daily walks in the garden in her time at Codea, but not nearly enough that Bobbi can list plants with opiate properties off the top of her head.

Luckily the laboratory has a selection of books that contain the information she’s looking for. Some of the plants listed in the encyclopedia are familiar, but some aren’t. Bobbi writes them all down faithfully, organizing the list by rarity. Jemma would insist that it was better to use plants that were more common, especially if they’re going to be making this theoretical serum on short notice.

She moves on from listing plants to researching the interactions between them, which takes much longer due to the variety of combinations she needs to consider. The work is tedious but oddly meditative, allowing Bobbi’s emotions to straighten themselves out without much input from her. The lab doesn’t have any windows, and she hardly realizes how much time has passed until there’s a knock on the door and a quiet, familiar voice announcing, “Dinner.”

“Come in.” She’s not going to open the door for Hunter, but she can hardly deny a prince entrance into a room in his own castle.

Hunter sets a tray laden with food by her elbow, peering over at her work. “Looks like you’ve gotten a lot done.”

Bobbi doesn’t look at him or move to touch the food. “I have.”

“You’re mad at me.” 

“I am.” Bobbi’s throat goes tight the same way it had when she first heard the news, and her neatly-compartmentalized emotions are threatening to jumble themselves together again. “I understand why you had to do it, but I still…”

“Felt like you deserved to know?” Hunter finishes. Bobbi nods. “I’m sorry, Bob.” He inhales like he’s about to say something more. It’s just enough noise that Bobbi turns to look at him. It’s a bad decision, because his hazel eyes betray everything he’s feeling - pain, sorrow, regret - and it’s awfully hard to stay mad at him when he looks at her like that.

“I am too, Orion.”

Hunter flinches like he’s been burned when he hears his given name, panic flaring in his eyes. “Please don’t call me that.”

“I thought -”

“Everyone calls me Hunter,” he interrupts before she can lay out her erroneous assumptions. “My  _ name _ is Lance Hunter. Not Orion Hartley.” Hunter sighs. “I can’t be Orion as long as Garrett’s alive. And I don’t -” He cut himself off, chewing on his lip. “I don’t want to be Orion.”

The burden that drops on his shoulders when he says those words is palpable, and Bobbi recognizes it all too well. How many times since her parents died had she wished the same thing? The last time Hunter had been Orion his father had died and he had nearly been killed. Bobbi would be worried for him if he wanted to go back to the pain of his childhood, especially for something like the power of a crown. 

The tray scrapes across the lab table as he pushes it towards her. Bobbi actually looks at the meal for the first time, and after a half-second of surveying it, she looks back up at Hunter. “You made my plate?” 

He nods. “I made the soup and found the peaches. Can’t take responsibility for the bread, I’m afraid.”

Bobbi grabs the spoon and begins poking at the mushroom soup. Most of the mushrooms are foreign to her, but apparently her faith in Hunter hasn’t been obliterated to the point she’s worried he’ll poison her.

“I can answer your questions, if you want,” Hunter offers as she begins poking at her soup.

The one question Bobbi wants to ask is why. Why hadn’t he told her? Even if she understands it intellectually, she wants to hear him say it. She wants to know that it’s not because he mistrusts her, or because he had been hoping never to have to tell the truth.

“Your scar?” She asks instead, taking a bite of the soup. Bobbi almost doesn’t hear Hunter’s answer because she’s so overwhelmed with the flavor of it, in a good way. It’s smokey and salty and homey, something that would’ve reminded her of Hunter even if she hadn’t known he’d cooked it.

“Good?” He asks, amused. Bobbi blushes.

“I see why you were intent on making it even while in Codea.”

Hunter smiles at her, and Bobbi almost smiles back. She catches herself at the last moment - all is not forgiven just because of a fantastic bowl of soup. 

“To answer your question,” Hunter says, moving on from their almost-moment with aplomb, “the scar is from when Creel tried to kill me, yes. Assuming that’s what you were asking.”

Bobbi nods. “And what happened after that?”

“I don’t remember most of it, considering I almost bled to death and all.” Hunter laughs humorlessly, and Bobbi’s chest tightens. She’s been so focused on how much of a shock it is for her to learn the truth that she didn’t pause to consider how reliving his childhood trauma is difficult for Hunter. “But my mum placed me with a family - Idaho’s family, actually - so that when I recovered I would be able to lead a normal life. She closed the borders so that no one would go looking for me or try again to kill… anyone, really.” 

“After I recovered I started training as a page so I could stay close to the castle, and her. A fair few people have figured out who I am, I think, especially since I look like Dad… you didn’t see the pictures in the entrance hall, I’m guessing?”

Bobbi shakes her head. She and Hunter had breezed through the entrance so quickly she hadn’t even noticed there were portraits in the hall.

“The beard is partially to hide that,” Hunter says, stroking at his chin. “Mum says I have to shave it when Garrett’s gone and I’m a proper prince.”

“It’s so weird to hear you call her  _ mum _ .” Bobbi knows that queens can be mothers, considering her own mother had been queen - but it’s strange to think of her Hunter being the son of the sharp-eyed, blunt-tongued woman she had just spent hours conversing with.

“I’m sure everyone else would think so too, if they knew.” Hunter leans against the lab table, suddenly more interested in it than in Bobbi. “She doesn’t really look like the mum type anymore, but when I was littler, things were different.” He pauses. “Dad dying and me going into hiding changed everything for her, you know?”

“Yeah.” She more than anyone could understand how one day can make all the difference. For Bobbi, it had been the difference between being a princess and an orphan queen; for Queen Isabelle, it had been the difference between being a wife and a mother to being neither.

Bobbi’s heart begins to hurt again. 

“It’s hard to be a good son when you can’t even acknowledge that someone is your mother.” Hunter’s voice cracks. “I just wanted to make her proud, and instead I made her a mess.”

“You didn’t do that. Garrett did.” Bobbi’s still hurt, but she’s not going to let Hunter blame himself for something that is as far from his fault as it could possibly be.

“It’s not Garrett’s fault that I mucked things up with you,” Hunter retorts. “I should’ve told you from the start instead of dropping hints that you couldn’t have hoped to pick up on. I shouldn’t have let you stop me in the forest. I should -”

“Maybe you should’ve, but you didn’t.” Bobbi hopes she doesn’t come across as callous, but it’s hard when she’s had so little practice in comforting people who aren’t Jemma. She pauses then, replaying what he said. “...You were going to tell me?”

“Of course I was going to tell you!” The words echo in the quiet of the laboratory, and for a long moment there’s nothing more than Hunter staring at her pleadingly. “I wanted to tell you from the moment I saw you, but you got so mad when I mentioned that people wanted you married to the prince of Aurelie and I -”

Bobbi’s breath catches in her throat. She doesn’t know how Hunter had planned to end that sentence, but hope starts nudging at her ribs, unfurling slowly and replacing the hurt there. He had wanted to tell her. Her feelings for him might not have been entirely one-sided, if his outburst is proof. 

“Lance?” She puts her spoon down. She’s hardly eaten anyways, too concerned with their conversation to pay her food much mind, but it feels important to get everything out of the way.

Bobbi takes a single step towards Hunter, slow and deliberate. He mirrors her, stepping forward so they’re toe-to-toe. 

“I never imagined that I’d meet a queen who was bright and intelligent and courageous and kind,” Hunter whispers, reaching a tentative hand to caress her cheek. Bobbi leans into the touch, unsure of how else to respond. “You’re not the only one with walls, Bob. But the moment I saw you I opened the gates, because I couldn’t - I can’t - imagine a world where I don’t want to show you all of me. Even the parts that are ugly and scarred.”

Bobbi hesitates, but reaches a hand for Hunter’s shoulder where she knows his scar starts. “There is no part of you that is ugly.” There are parts of him that confuse her or infuriate her or scare her, but there is not a damn thing about the man standing in front of her that Bobbi would change. “Hunter, I -”

“You don’t need to say it if you don’t want to.”

She blinks at him, taking a moment to consider before declaring, “I want to.” Bobbi leans forward so her forehead is pressed against Hunter’s, their lips so close they could touch. She wants them to touch, but not before she gets to say her piece.

“Lance Hunter, I -”

She’s interrupted for a second time, this time by the door opening. Bobbi steps back from Hunter guiltily, but immediately regrets the loss of his warmth. They both turn to see who’s at the door, and Bobbi’s more than a little mortified when she recognizes Queen Isabelle. 

The queen either doesn’t realize what she’s just walked in on or is doing an excellent job of hiding it. She breezes over to the couple, at which point Bobbi is certain the queen’s ignorance of their closeness is deliberate, since there’s a familiar smirk poorly hidden under a mask of nonchalance.

Queen Isabelle talks, but Bobbi hardly hears what she’s saying. It’s not until Hunter nudges her and points to the spoon that she realizes it was a comment about her not eating. She picks up the utensil as the other queen continues talking, but again, her brain refuses to process any of it. She’s too busy looking at Hunter, three unsaid words on the tip of her tongue making the soup bland and tasteless.

He meets her eyes, the corners of his lips turning up slightly. Bobbi smiles back at him, wishing they could be alone again so she could say what she’s thinking.

_ I love you. _


	12. of baths and borders

Bobbi doesn’t get a chance to be alone with Hunter for the rest of the day. She does manage to finish her research regarding the various plants to use to make her sedative, and hands the list off to Queen Isabelle so the ingredients can be gathered, but it’s hard to be proud of her accomplishment when all she can see is what she didn’t get to do. Hunter disappears quickly after Queen Isabelle appears, and doesn’t show his face in the lab again.

Maybe this is all a mistake.

Bobbi is pondering just that when she slips into the bathtub placed in the corner of her room. Queen Isabelle had been quite tactful about telling Bobbi she smells like the devil’s backside, and she’s glad to have a remedy for it - but it’s also quite hard not to ponder her life while washing up. 

The water is cool almost to the point of discomfort. Bobbi focuses instead on the bar of soap sitting by the side of the tub. She runs it across her body and through her hair, trying to let the meditation of the repetitive movements quiet her racing thoughts. She knows she shouldn’t be this worried about Hunter - he’s  _ Hunter _ \- but a part of her can’t help but wonder if they missed their moment. His departure could’ve been about any number of things not related to the almost-kiss, but her entire body feels slightly achy with fearing she’s chased him off.

A knock sounds at the door. “Come in!” Queen Isabelle had told her to expect a servant with a change of clothing for her, and Bobbi expects that’s who it is. There’s a screen in between the bath and the bed to protect her modesty, so she’s not concerned with some unwitting lady’s maid seeing something she oughtn’t.

Horror blooms in Bobbi’s chest when she recognizes the pattern of footsteps shuffling along the floor.

Hunter is in her bedroom. And she’s  _ naked _ .

“Where would you like me to put these?” She’s not surprised by his voice, but Bobbi is still mortified enough she can’t find her voice. Silence sits between them until Hunter asks, “Bob?”

“Just drape them over the screen.” Normally she lays her clothes out beside her bathtub, but she’s not going to let Hunter on her side of the screen if she can help it. This already violates so many rules of propriety. So had most of their journey here, but no one else had been there to witness it. Now they have an entire castle full of people and it feels like everyone is watching Bobbi’s every move, waiting for her to make a mistake. At least now she knows she hasn’t chased him away, though.

The soft swish of fabric as Hunter does as she asks breaks Bobbi’s focus. 

“Are you angry with me?”

“No, Hunter.” Bobbi swallows. “I’m just a bit unsure of what to do when the man I’m very attracted to is in the same room as me while I’m bathing.” It comes out a bit more bluntly than she intends, and Bobbi flushes. 

“Oh!” Hunter sounds equally startled by her honesty. “...So you think I’m handsome, then?”

“I do.” Bobbi is beyond glad Hunter can’t see how the blush on her cheeks is beginning to creep down her entire body. She scrubs the bar of soap through her hair again to distract herself from her mortification. 

“And if I should wish to kiss you…?”

“I will gladly kiss you back.” Thoughts of remaining proper fly out of Bobbi’s head as she imagines what it will be like to finally kiss Hunter. She rinses the last of the soap out of her hair quickly, rising from the bathtub in one fluid motion. “I rather think that should happen now.”

“Perhaps we should wait for you to be dressed,” Hunter suggests. She can hear the smirk in his voice, and Bobbi rolls her eyes.

“I’ll concede that.” She doesn’t have the patience to wait long for the water to drip off her, so when she puts on the simple cotton shift the queen had given her, the fabric clings to Bobbi’s body. She pulls the overdress on as well, which does slightly more to cover her.

She rounds the screen, her heart leaping when she sees Hunter. She knows he’s there, but she breathes easier when she can see him. She hasn’t messed it up and he hasn’t run away. They are going to be okay, and she is going to kiss the man who might just be the love of her life.

They meet in the middle, Hunter’s arms wrapping around her waist as hers encircle his shoulders. They’re even closer now than they were earlier, Hunter’s heat stealing the chill from her skin.

He leans forward, but rather than moving to press their lips together, his nose rests against her cheek. “You smell nice.”

Bobbi laughs. “I did just bathe, Lance.” She certainly hopes she smells nice. “I believe I was promised something?”

“I thought I ought to start with a compliment, since last time I did the whole dramatic speech about -”

Bobbi loses patience then, cutting him off with a kiss. For a moment Hunter’s surprisingly still, until his brain registers the fact they’re kissing and he needs to do something about it. He opens his mouth slightly, and Bobbi doesn’t need an invitation to open hers. His tongue is soft and sure as it slides across hers, and Bobbi tightens her hold on Hunter’s shoulders when he nibbles at her lip. He’s a much better kisser than he has a right to be.

A purr-like sound rumbles deep in Hunter’s chest when he pulls away from her. “I think, Your Majesty, we’ve waited far too long to do that.”

“I agree, Your Highness.” Bobbi smiles wryly at him. “I suppose we’ll just have to make up for lost time, then.”

He takes the cue easily, fitting their mouths back together with expert precision. A dreamlike fugue settles over Bobbi as she once again relents. Kissing Hunter is the best kind of surrender - it’s warm and safe and comfortable and she enjoys doing it perhaps more than anything else she’s done, but she doesn’t have to be in control. Hunter guides her firmly but she’s never afraid he’s going to demand anything of her she doesn’t want to give. He allows her the chance to take over, but Bobbi’s small whimper is enough to convince him that’s not what she wants. She just wants to let him take care of her.

The first thing Bobbi notices when Hunter pulls his away again is how red and swollen his lips have become. She reaches a hand up to cup his face, her thumb running over his lower lip. He looks fetching like this, his lips marked with her kisses.

“I’m not sure how I’m going to get anything done with you around,” Bobbi murmurs. “All I want to do is kiss you.”

“I am not going to object.” Hunter kisses her thumb softly. “But perhaps we should brush your hair first.”

Bobbi blinks, startled. She had forgotten she’s still wet, her hair dripping onto the stone floors. “Your priorities are strange, Your Highness,” she giggles, brushing a kiss across his cheek. 

“Perhaps they are, Your Majesty.” Hunter grins at her. “However, I am inclined to believe any time spent with you is well-spent, even if our lips are not together.”

Bobbi can’t argue. She wants to kiss Hunter constantly, but it’s also hard to talk to someone when you’re kissing them, and she wants to do that, too. She wants to do everything and anything with him - even brushing her hair.

She grabs the brush from the small desk in the corner, sitting when Hunter taps her shoulder. He takes the brush from her and begins moving it through her hair in measured strokes. Bobbi grabs the hand he’s not using to brush her hair with, playing with his fingers. His hands aren’t soft like hers, but Bobbi hadn’t fallen in love with Orion, prince of Aurelie - she had fallen in love with Lance Hunter, the knight with calluses and sun-rough skin. 

“I love you.”

The brush stills, and Bobbi wonders if she’s miscalculated. Her worry subsides when Hunter drops a soft kiss on the top of her head and squeezes her hand.

“I love you too.”

It feels impossibly fast, to kiss a man and then not five minutes later declare she loves him, but Bobbi didn’t need to kiss Hunter to know he has her heart. He had stolen it long ago, perhaps the first time they met. She had just been slow in realizing how much of her he held in the palm of his hands. Hunter’s possession of her heart had become obvious when she had been so distressed over his keeping a secret from her.

The kissing is just a bonus.

“Hunter?” Bobbi asks as he begins to brush her hair again.

“Yes, my love?”

Bobbi almost forgets what she meant to say because her heart is fluttering so hard in her chest. She allows herself a stupidly large smile before answering him. “You don’t have any more secrets, do you?”

Another kiss lands on the crown of her head, and Bobbi’s heart jumps again. “None. Anything you ask, Bob, I’ll answer.”

It’s the response she needs to hear, and when she’s in bed, she sleeps soundly.

\---

The next week Bobbi spends familiarizing herself with the castle, working on her sedative, and spending time with the royal family. Most of her free hours are spent with Hunter, but she also finds herself often in conversation with Queen Isabelle about politics and being a queen. Aurelie and Codea are already officially aligned, but Bobbi finds having a personal relationship with the queen makes the alliance feel more real.

On the seventh day of her stay at the castle, Bobbi thinks she might’ve finally found a passable sedative formula.

“Are there any mice in the castle?” Bobbi asks Hunter. He’s sitting a few feet away, copying her notes into more legible handwriting in case they should ever need to remake the formula.

“Of course there’s mice,” Hunter scoffs. Bobbi supposes he’s right - there’s no way to have a place this big without any mice, no matter how hard people try to clean it and how many cats are around.

“Can you get me one?”

“You want me to get you a mouse?” Hunter repeats. Bobbi nods. “You are the strangest woman I know.” Hunter stands, gets just close enough to peck her lips, and then goes off in search of a mouse she can use for her experiment.

She loves him more with each passing day.

Bobbi spends the time preparing the sedative, mentally calculating how much of it will be needed to knock out a mouse. The answer is not much at all, and it takes a steady hand to portion out just a drop of liquid. Bobbi puts it on the point of her dagger - or rather, Hunter’s dagger, which he hasn’t attempted to reclaim. The liquid seems to sink into the metal, which is strange. Bobbi hadn’t anticipated the reaction, but she doesn’t know enough about chemistry to ascertain if it’s a problem.

Hunter returns more quickly than she expects, and with his mother in tow. He places the mouse he’s carrying on the lab table, keeping one hand on it to hold it still.

“I wanted to see the demonstration,” Queen Isabelle offers. “And also figure out why my son was chasing after a mouse.” 

Hunter winks at her, and Bobbi smiles at the mental picture of Hunter running down a corridor after a rodent. He must’ve looked ridiculous to catch the queen’s attention the way he had.

Bobbi takes the dagger in her hand, motioning for Hunter to adjust his grip on the mouse so there’s some exposed flesh. She inhales deeply, and exhales, still staring at the mouse. She doesn’t know if this is going to work, or if the mouse will suffer any permanent damage if the sedative does work. It seems unfair to subject an innocent animal to her test… but Bobbi also has a sinking feeling iif she asks for a human test subject Hunter will jump at the chance.

Bobbi slices the mouse as quickly and shallowly as possible, and it immediately stops squirming in Hunter’s grip. Hunter shifts his fingers slightly, then looks to Bobbi. “Its heart is still beating.”

“Now we wait.” Bobbi needs to know how long it’ll take for the mouse to wake up. She bites her lip, the seconds stretching out long as she waits, and waits, and waits. Hunter takes her hand at some point, and Bobbi uses it to ground her instead of letting her worry carry her away.

The mouse jerks to awakeness suddenly, and Hunter dives for it as it leaps off the lab table. The mouse wins, though, scuttling off into a shadowy corner of the lab.

“Well, it’s alive,” Hunter comments, brushing himself off as he stands. “I say you’ve done it, Bob.”

“Very impressive work, Barb.” Bobbi’s still trying to figure out how she feels about Queen Isabelle giving her another nickname. It’s nice she hasn’t taken Hunter’s nickname, but it’s taking some getting used to.

Bobbi accepts the praise with a nod, but she’s still nervous. Their entire plan is laid on the foundation of this sedative, and one promising test isn’t enough to put her mind at ease.

“There’s something else I want to speak to the two of you about,” Queen Isabelle says. “This morning there was a group of people who came to the border.”

“To attack?” Hunter asks, stepping closer to Bobbi. It’s ridiculous he believes armed soldiers will spring from the shadows, but endearing his first inclination is to protect her.

“No,” the queen answers, raising a placating hand. “If they had come to attack you’d have heard of something sooner, I promise.” She pauses. “As I understand, these are friends of yours. A Ceteran duke, an ex-Aurelian scientist, and, apparently, the princess of Clipeum, among others.”

“ _ What _ ?” Bobbi sputters. Trip she can understand coming to Aurelie - but Jemma? And  _ Daisy _ ? They’re supposed to be in Clipeum, where they can stay healthy and safe. She can’t imagine King Phillip is at all pleased with his daughter running off to a foreign land to fight in what might be the first battle of a war.

“They’re being brought to the castle. Perhaps you can talk some sense into Princess Daisy.”

“Not likely,” Hunter mutters. “She’s almost as stubborn as our Bob.” Bobbi can’t even be indignant about his description because he’s looking at her with plain fondness in his eyes.

Queen Isabelle smiles a familiar smile. Whenever Hunter looks like that, it means he’s about to get up to something no good. The queen just looks at Bobbi, still smiling, and says, “This is going to be fun.”


	13. of friends and farewells

The entire castle is set abuzz by the arrival of the first group of visitors in two decades, and all Bobbi can do is watch. Queen Isabelle offers to let her borrow a gown so she could look regal when helping accept the guests, but Bobbi’s developed a fondness for trousers. She also doesn’t want to go through the lengthy process of being laced into a corset, especially not if the plan is to leave for Ceterum soon.

The hours melt away the way time tends to when something exciting is about to happen, and before she knows it, Bobbi is standing in the throne room beside Hunter. The back of his hand brushes against hers, and Bobbi hooks their little fingers together for just a moment. Hunter’s lips turn up into a smile in her periphery, and that’s all she needs.

He unlatches their fingers when the doors to the throne room swing open. Bobbi’s eyes begin to sting when Mack strides through the door, but the tears don’t begin to fall until Jemma rushes past him. For once Bobbi doesn’t care about the rules of decorum, and she meets Jemma halfway across the room, catching her best friend in her arms.

Jemma’s embrace is warm and fierce, and some of the anxiety that’s been bubbling in Bobbi evaporates. Jemma doesn’t seem to have any lasting damage from her plunge into the river, which is just as much of a relief as having her friend back with her.

Mack clears his throat, and Jemma steps back from Bobbi, flushing as she curtsies to Queen Isabelle.

“It’s quite alright,” Queen Isabelle says. “You must be Miss Simmons. I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”

Jemma’s blush deepens. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“All good things,” Bobbi assures Jemma. “At least on my end.” She glances over her shoulder, and Hunter smiles toothily at them.

“What ill is there to speak of Jemma Simmons?” He asks.

“Plenty,” Mack grumbles under his breath. Bobbi can barely hear him, but she guesses Queen Isabelle knows the gist of what he said, because she’s smiling that mischievous smile she gets when she thinks something is going to be fun.

The Codean trio moves back towards the throne where Queen Isabelle is sitting so that the rest of the introductions can be made. Trip sweeps in with his genial smile and a fluid bow, pausing to kiss Bobbi on the cheek and clasp Hunter’s hand.

Then comes Daisy. Unlike Jemma she doesn’t have the luxury of running in. Bobbi can see the weight of the future on the princess, as if she’s suddenly realized she’s going to have to make these sorts of diplomatic visits for the rest of her life. Even if her dress isn’t a resplendent ball gown, it’s been designed to make Daisy look regal, the golden fabric shining in the midday light streaming in through the windows.

Daisy curtsies to Queen Isabelle, who curtsies back. Bobbi wants to ask a hundred questions - if Queen Isabelle had known Bobbi’s parents, it was likely she knew King Phillip and Queen Melinda, too - but there’s not much time for that.

“I expect you all are looking to leave as soon as possible.” Queen Isabelle’s statement is met with a round of nods. “I’m afraid I must insist you stay for a meal. I’ve heard too many stories to pass up my chance at having a conversation with you all for myself.”

The queen ushers them into an area of the castle Bobbi’s not yet been in. The room she leads them into is a semi-formal dining room; there’s food already laid on the table, and Bobbi’s arches an eyebrow at Queen Isabelle. The other queen just smiles, shaking her head slightly. Bobbi won’t question it any further.

She sits at Queen Isabelle’s left, while Daisy sits at the queen’s right. Jemma slides into the other seat beside Bobbi, and Mack at the seat beyond her. Trip settles next to Daisy, leaving Hunter at the foot of the table.

The conversation is slow to start; only Bobbi and Hunter have ever spoken to the queen before, and everyone else seems nervous to somehow offend her. Hunter does an admirable job of keeping the conversation away from Aurelie’s history, though, which means soon the conversation is flowing easily.

“So what have you two been doing while we’ve been away?” Jemma asks, turning to Bobbi and then Hunter.

Bobbi finds Hunter’s eyes, quirking an eyebrow up. He shifts his head subtly to the side, and Bobbi blinks her understanding; they’re not going to discuss him being the prince of Aurelie. Before she can begin silently asking her next question, Hunter is speaking.

“Her Majesty the Queen of Codea and I have decided to begin courting.”

Mack’s eyes are burning into the side of her head, but the discomfort is drowned out by Jemma’s enthusiastic squealing and Trip’s more muted congratulations.

“We’re hoping to make it official after this has all blown over,” Bobbi says when the noise has died down. She neglects to say that when Garrett is done with Hunter will be able to take his place as the next in line to Aurelie’s throne. Maybe then Mack will be less displeased with her decision to agree to court Hunter.

“Bobbi’s also developed something to help us on our mission.” Hunter doesn’t linger on the topic of their relationship for long, for which Bobbi is grateful. “Some scientists are working on replicating her recipe - it’s a tranquilizer to put on our weapons so we won’t have to do fatal damage to Garrett’s people.”

He shoots a smile at her, and Bobbi smiles back. Hunter had agreed wholeheartedly with her plan of minimizing the death toll. Just because Garrett took lives indiscriminately didn’t mean they had to, too.

Across the course of their meal Mack informs them all that Elena is almost single handedly keeping everyone in the Codean court in line. The commoners weren’t pleased with Garrett marching in, but some of the nobles were more than willing to switch their loyalties if it meant currying favor. Elena had been curbing most of that behavior, which was why Mack had felt secure enough in leaving Codea at all.

Mack, for his part, is enamored with the Queen of Aurelie. His humor and Queen Isabelle’s mesh well together, and Mack seems to enjoy having someone to talk to who he isn’t in some way responsible for. 

It doesn’t take long for everyone to become restless; after conversation has mostly run out and they’ve cleaned their plates there’s no more reason to stay in Aurelie. Queen Isabelle gives permission for the others to go to the guest wing and change their clothing before they depart again, leaving Bobbi and Hunter alone with her once again.

Bobbi’s first inclination is to find an excuse to leave so Hunter and his mother can say goodbye without an audience. It won’t be possible for them to have more than a stilted sending when everyone else is around, and Bobbi knows more than anyone a proper goodbye is important. She stands to move, but Hunter copies her and gives her a pointed glance, clearly asking her to stay.

She is not much good at saying no to him.

The pair of them stand in front of Queen Isabelle, whose eyes mist over when she looks at them. “I am so proud of both of you,” the queen whispers, looking at each of them in turn. “You’re fighting to make the world a better place. I failed to do that.”

“It’s alright, Mum.” Hunter’s voice is earnest. Bobbi can’t help but agree with him; she’s not sure if she were in Queen Isabelle’s situation she would have even been able to survive, let alone continue to lead a queendom. Losing her parents had been hard, but what Queen Isabelle had gone through was enough to break a lesser woman.

They aren’t going to let anyone go through this sort of pain again. Garrett is going to be stopped.

“It’s not,” Queen Isabelle whispers, reaching out to cup her son’s face. “But I know if anyone can make it right, it’s the two of you.”

A lump forms in Bobbi’s throat. This woman she’s just barely met has so much faith in her, and it feels unfair. She hasn’t done anything to deserve this.

“Barb,” the queen says, catching her attention. “If your parents were here, they’d be proud, too.” 

Bobbi fights against the tears, but she can’t keep them from falling. Hunter sweeps her up into a hug, his own eyes shining, and Queen Isabelle joins them. For a long minute they stand together, weeping for everything Garrett has taken from them - fathers, mothers, husbands, friends. 

When they withdraw they all have red-rimmed eyes. Bobbi takes a deep breath, trying to cool her flushed face and stinging eyes. Hunter kisses her temple, soothing her.

“Take care of each other,” Queen Isabelle says, wiping under her eyes. “Stay safe.” She turns her gaze to Hunter, blue eyes soft. “Come home to me, Orion.”

“I will, Mum. I promise.” Hunter leans forward, allowing his mother to kiss him on the head, before returning to Bobbi. He squeezes her tight against his side, kissing the crown of her head.

“I’ll keep him from getting into too much trouble,” Bobbi promises. Hunter doesn’t even fake indignation, choosing instead to kiss her softly.

It will be okay. They will keep each other safe and it will be okay, because it has to be.

\---

Bobbi can’t sleep. She’s been fighting with her body for what feels like hours, trying to snatch a little bit of rest so that her mind will be clear when she finally confronts John Garrett. She should’ve realized earlier in their five-day journey the idea of coming face-to-face with her parents’ murderer would be unsettling, but the reality of the situation has only recently sunk in.

Eventually Bobbi ducks out of her tent, leaving behind Daisy and Jemma, who haven’t been similarly plagued with insomnia.

There’s someone else who has been, though. Hunter sits with his back against a tree trunk, staring out into the dark night with hollow hazel eyes.

“Mind if I join you?” Bobbi asks quietly.

Hunter cranes his neck up at her, nodding as soon as he’s processed who she is. Bobbi settles herself on the ground next to Hunter, but he doesn’t allow her to stay there for long. He lifts her into his lap with one fluid motion. Bobbi can’t say she minds the extra closeness.

They sit together in silence, the sounds of a midsummer night filling in for conversation. Bobbi slowly relaxes, allowing herself to sink into Hunter. With each moment that passes they melt closer together, and Bobbi only speaks when there’s no space left between them.

“Are you worried about tomorrow?”

Hunter inclines his head.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He raises his shoulder half-heartedly.

Bobbi doesn’t push, choosing instead to brush a kiss over Hunter’s temple. She’s still learning how to be a good… whatever she is to him, but she knows that sometimes it’s just enough to be there.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Bob.” Hunter’s voice strains with something she can’t quite place. “I’ve spent the last twenty years of my life waiting for this, and now it’s here, and I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Hunter turns his head to hide in her shoulder, and Bobbi lets him. 

After collecting himself for a moment, he begins speaking again. “I can’t think about what happens if we don’t do it right, but even if we win… what the hell do I  _ do _ ?” Hunter withdraws from her shoulder suddenly, leaning back until he can look her in the eyes. “Who am I when this is over?”

A pain like nothing she’s ever felt before stabs at Bobbi’s chest. Hunter looks so lost, and she doesn’t know how to help. Even knowing Garrett was the one who killed her parents for a few weeks has been difficult - she can’t imagine the weight of carrying it for twenty years. For as long as he could remember Hunter’s been a knight of Aurelie seeking vengeance for his father’s assassination, and if everything goes as planned tomorrow, he won’t be that anymore.

Bobbi hasn’t known Lance Hunter for long, but she likes to believe she knows who he is beneath all the trappings. That’s all his name and station are - flourishes. He will be the same if he is a knight or a prince, looking for retribution or finally at peace.

She runs the tips of her fingers down the side of his face, catching on the familiar stubble as she does. “Who you’ll be is a man who is compassionate, and charming, and stubborn as hell. A person who is loyal to his friends and tries to do the right thing and believes in the best in people even when he doesn’t like to show it. Someone who loves his mother and his father and his country and his people.”

“And you,” Hunter adds when Bobbi’s finished. “I love you.”

Bobbi ducks to kiss him gently. “And me,” she acquiesces. She hadn’t wanted to add herself to the list, not when their relationship is still so new, but she can’t refuse if he wants to add her himself. “And tomorrow won’t change that.”

“Promise?”

“I can’t promise that you’ll still love me,” Bobbi teases, “but I can promise I’ll still love you.”

“Not a chance I’m letting go of you.” Hunter tightens his arms around her waist as if to prove his point. “Not when you say such nice things about me.”

“Do you want me to say all the bad things about you? I do have a list.”

“You do not.” Hunter leans forward, catching her lower lip between his teeth and nibbling it gently. 

Bobbi does not, in fact, have a list of Hunter’s negative qualities, but if she did, his ability to wipe her brain with one simple motion would definitely be on it.

“I don’t,” she admits, brushing her lips over his again. “But I could.”

“I know you could. Lies, gets lost in his head, has crises at the least convenient times…” Hunter trails off, pausing in their playful kissing to peer up at her. “How on earth do you deal with it?”

“The same way you deal with me being headstrong and my unwillingness to talk about emotions.” Bobbi rests her forehead against Hunter’s. “Because when you love someone, you love all of them.”

Hunter sighs softly, then kisses her again, accepting her answer. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, breath warm against her lips. “For talking me down.”

Bobbi doesn’t know how to accept his thanks, so she kisses him again and hopes he knows its meaning. Hunter doesn’t ask any more questions, and neither does she. It is enough to sit under a starry sky together one last time, before the dawn comes and changes everything.


	14. of battles and blood

When Bobbi wakes up, she’s still under the tree, and still cuddled close to Hunter. She blinks blearily, ignoring the urge to bury herself in Hunter and fall right back to sleep.

Today is the day. She needs to be prepared.

She tries to climb off Hunter’s lap, but before she can get far his arms are pulling her tighter against him. He kisses the back of her neck, murmuring something that sounds suspiciously like _stay._

“Lance, come on,” Bobbi whispers, tugging against his hold. “We have to get ready.” Bobbi also doesn’t particularly fancy thinking about Mack finding them like this. It’s not proper - though she and Hunter haven’t been much good at being proper. It doesn’t matter to Bobbi, since she doubts she’ll change her mind about who she wants to spend her life with, and people will talk no matter what she does. It matters to Mack, though, and Bobbi tries to respect that.

“Don’t wanna.” 

“Please? For me?”

Hunter grumbles but releases her. Bobbi rewards him with a quick kiss, and he smiles sleepily at her.

If all goes as planned, she’ll get to spend the rest of her life waking up to that smile. Her heart flutters traitorously, and Bobbi stands quickly to hide the flush in her cheeks.

The rest of the camp wakes up not long afterwards. If Mack noticed Hunter was missing from the tent during the night, he doesn’t say anything. 

The last of the ride to the castle is filled with Jemma’s nervously fluttering hands and slightly-shaky voice as she reminds them of everything they need to know. They’re posing as servants - _no one bothers guarding the servants’ entrances_ , Jemma had said - and needless to say, that’s not easy for members of the nobility. They have to learn how to duck their heads, slump their shoulders, take up no space at all.

It grates on Bobbi. She doesn’t mind pretending not to be a queen, not after what she’s been through the last month, but she had thought she was a good queen. Everything Jemma’s saying about servants is making her rethink that, and how had she never thought to ask before? But now, today, is not the time to be rethinking her entire short reign.

Hunter notices her agitation, of course, but there’s not much he can do from a horse several feet away.

She will do better. _They_ will do better when she is queen and he is king and -

The future tastes bitter when she’s not sure if she’ll have it. Bobbi pushes her dreams aside. They can wait a few more hours, when she’s sure she can have the life she wants again.

Jemma’s right about the servants’ entrance being poorly guarded. They tie their horses up nearby and it’s as simple as joining a crowd of people walking into the palace for the morning shift. There are no identity checks, no one even looks to see if they’re hiding weapons under their clothing - which, of course, Bobbi and her friends are. They each have a dagger dipped into the solution Trip had affectionately dubbed “night night juice”, as well as a vial of the stuff to replenish their weapons with.

It shouldn’t be this easy. Butterflies batter at Bobbi’s ribs, and even the deep breaths she takes don’t calm her. Something is going to go terribly wrong, she can _feel_ it. 

They separate from the rest of the servants once within the castle - most of them are going down into the castle’s cellars. Garrett had relocated his throne room to the third floor of the castle when he became king, a peculiar and frustrating detail. It was only Trip’s familiarity with the castle that kept them from making a potentially deadly mistake; the old throne room now served as the main hub for guards, which they (obviously) wished to avoid.

“Bobbi?” Trip touches Bobbi’s elbow softly, making her jump. “We’re splitting up now.”

Bobbi nods, trying to shake off some of her nerves, rolling her shoulders and flexing her fingers. If anything, the movement makes her more jittery. 

Momentarily, Bobbi wonders why she had insisted to be the one to confront Garrett. She doesn’t have any combat skill except for basic self-defense and what Hunter had been able to teach her since she left Codea. She’s a queen, not a fighter!

As soon as the thought crosses her mind, though, Bobbi remembers. She needs to confront Garrett _because_ she is a queen. Because he killed her parents, because he killed her _people_ with a plague that never should’ve existed. Garrett tried to ruin her country. He has to pay for it, and she’s the one who’s going to make him pay.

“Let’s go.” She tugs on Hunter’s elbow, and he yields to her easily. They just need to find a staircase and get to the third floor. The rest of the group will be trying to create enough of a distraction to keep the guards away from the throne room and to signal Queen Isabelle’s sleeper agent the time to reveal herself has come.

Hunter withdraws his dagger as they begin walking through the castle. Bobbi copies him - gripping the dagger helps ground her and keeps her from bursting into a run. It’s not time for running yet.

“If anyone tries to stop us, you let me handle it,” Hunter says as they begin climbing the first set of stairs. Bobbi opens her mouth to protest, but Hunter holds up a hand and continues talking. “You need to get to Garrett. I get you to Garrett. That’s my job.”

Bobbi snaps her mouth shut, clenching her jaw in an attempt to reign in her anger. “I thought we were doing this together.”

“Bob,” Hunter sighs. “Sweetheart, _you_ thought that, but everyone else disagrees.”

“You _lied_ to me!?” What happened to no more secrets?

“Bobbi, you can be as mad as you want about this, but the truth of the matter is we have maybe five more minutes before one of the idiots in Garrett’s guard realize what’s actually happening.” Hunter doesn’t stop moving, but Bobbi can tell he wants to. She wants to be able to stop, too, so they can properly discuss this. “You need to be the one to get Garrett,” he explains patiently, like she’s a child.

“Why? Why can’t you do it?”

“Because if I’m left alone in a room with John Garrett, I _will_ kill him.” Hunter’s voice goes hard. “You’re a better person than I am. You’ll let him live. And that’s what we need - us, personally, and the continent, too. If we kill him, he becomes a martyr. Someone, or more than one someone, will rise to replace him.”

“What if I can’t?” She’s not as good of a person as he seems to think, and she’s not skilled enough - even if Garrett is old, he had once been a warrior in addition to a noble. 

“Bobbi.” Hunter actually does stop then, pivoting to face her. “You are the most capable, _brilliant_ woman I know. You can do it, and you will, because you’ve always done what you have to. You’ve always been the dutiful princess and the dutiful queen and I know it’s difficult, sweetheart, but I promise, this is the last time. This is the last time you’ll do something just because you have to.”

Bobbi lifts her chin, forcing her lower lip not to quiver. “You promised you wouldn’t lie to me again, and you did. Why should I trust you this time?”

“I don’t know, Bob.” Hunter admits. “I didn’t want to lie, but you wouldn’t have agreed to the plan if you knew.”

“How silly of me not to agree to a plan where you see yourself as - as disposable!” Bobbi knows they’re wasting their time, arguing on a stairwell like this, but she doesn’t care. “You promised your mother -”

“You don’t think I told her!? She’s my mum!” And Queen Isabelle had been okay with this, too?

Bobbi shakes her head, pushing past Hunter to continue climbing upwards. “You are so infuriating, Lance Hunter!” 

He murmurs something that probably isn’t an apology, following her up the rest of the staircase. Now is not the time to feel like she’s a heartbeat away from tears, but Bobbi’s attempts to swallow her feelings are futile. The only good thing is her frustration has replaced the nerves of earlier, and the burn of it in her gut spurs her forward.

When they reach the third floor Bobbi turns down the first corridor she sees. She can’t remember the directions Trip gave them, but there are only so many rooms big enough to be the throne room. She’ll know it when she sees it.

She makes another turn, and lets out an undignified squeak when she sees a quartet of men in armor walking down the corridor with purpose. Hunter pulls her back to relative safely, putting himself between her and the rapidly-approaching men.

“Go.” He doesn’t look at her when he says it.

“But -”

“ _Go_ , Bobbi. Now.”

There’s not time for so much as a word of encouragement, before the guards round the corner. 

Bobbi takes off in the opposite direction, adrenaline surging through her. She doesn’t want to abandon Hunter, but she has to admit that she’ll just get in the way in a fight. 

 _Useless_ , a voice in her head hisses.

Bobbi doesn’t stop running. Her mother hadn’t known how to fight, and she was one of the best people Bobbi had ever known. Queen Isabelle probably didn’t know how to fight, either - and neither did Daisy, or Elena, or Jemma. Fighting was not the only way she could be powerful.

It’s obvious when she’s reached the throne room. Garrett’s sigil is emblazoned on the door in golden paint, the double-headed snake staring at her with menacing emerald eyes. The whirlwind inside Bobbi stills as she looks at the snake, and it looks at her. She wonders if Garrett’s insignia was on the hilt of the sword used to kill Hunter’s father - if this is the last thing he saw.

The sense of overwhelming calm begins to fray at the edges when Bobbi realizes what is noticeably absent. There are no guards outside the throne room. If someone were attacking her castle, that would be the first place every available soldier ran.

She may be walking into a trap. Oddly, Bobbi doesn’t care.

It has to end here. 

The door swings open without so much as a creak, and then Bobbi is face to face with the only person in the world she can say with certainty she hates.

Garrett lounges on his throne, smiling placidly. There aren’t any guards inside, either - just a tall man with greasy dark hair and hollow eyes.

“Grant, it looks like our guest has finally arrived,” Garrett says, voice just as pleasant as it would’ve been if Bobbi was there for a diplomatic mission and not a coup.

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” Bobbi adjusts her grip on her dagger, eyes flitting to the man at Garrett’s side. That must’ve been his protégé, Grant Ward. Ward isn’t nearly as relaxed as Garrett, standing at attention with his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Grant won’t hurt you unless I ask him to,” Garrett continues, still serene. “I have some things I want to discuss first.”

“I _said_ , I have nothing to say to you!” Bobbi stalks forward, stopping only at the sound of metal sliding on metal. Ward’s unsheathed his sword, and has it pointed at Bobbi.

“But I have something to say to you, little girl,” Garrett snarls, finally losing his affected calm. “And you’ll damn well listen to me!”

Bobbi can’t say what possesses her - instinct, training, anger, adrenaline, or a combination thereof - but she moves. Ward obviously isn’t expecting her to step away from Garrett, and in the moment it takes him to adjust to the change, she’s lunging for Ward. All she needs to do is cut him enough for the sedative to take effect.

The slice on his hand is not an impressive wound, and Ward agrees. He laughs, holding his hand out to Garrett. “Just a scr -”

He’s halfway through the word when he drops to the ground, unconscious.

This, Bobbi thinks, is why villains ought not to monologue.

She faces Garrett. “You can surrender, or I can do the same to you.”

“Surrender?” Garrett scoffs. “Kings don’t surrender, little girl. And they always have a backup plan.” Garrett raises his fingers to his lips, whistling a loud and sharp note.

Silence.

More silence.

Garrett begins to look less sure of himself, but the door to the throne room opens and his face splits into a grin.

Bobbi turns to face whatever new threat has entered. She expects more guards, but instead it’s just a single woman, dressed head to toe in leather armor.

“Victoria,” Garrett purrs. “I believe you know what to do.”

“I do,” the woman says.” Bobbi gulps, readying herself for a fight. She doesn’t think she’ll get lucky twice. She doubts the woman - Victoria - will stop to gloat midway through the battle.

But Victoria never attacks. 

“You should have chosen your champion more carefully, John.” Victoria smiles, cold and feral. She looks at Bobbi, eyes still like chips of ice. “Long live the queen.”

Bobbi could’ve cheered.

“I believe Iz gave you something to do?” Victoria asks, raising an eyebrow. Bobbi nods. “Then get to it.”

Bobbi savors the few steps she takes to Garrett. He looks too stunned to fight back, and despite her original disinclination to monologue, Bobbi can’t help but say a few words. “How does it feel to be beaten by a little girl?” 

She slices a line down Garrett’s forearm before he can answer her, and he slumps over in his throne.

Victoria claps her hands, and a pair of guards materialize. When Vic points to the blacked out king, they fasten shackles to his wrists and ankles. One of the guards slings Garrett over his shoulder like the once-king is no more than a sack of grain, and Bobbi feels a stab of vicious pleasure at the sight.

“We’ve taken control of the castle,” Victoria informs Bobbi curtly. “More than a few people were unhappy with Garrett’s rule. It wasn’t challenging to get everyone to turn against him.”

That doesn’t shock Bobbi, if Garrett had made a habit of treating everyone the way he treated her.

“I’m going to rendezvous with my people, then.” The adrenaline is ebbing away, and all Bobbi wants is to make sure her friends are okay. Especially Daisy - King Phillip and Queen Melinda would kill her if anything happened to their daughter.

Victoria nods her assent, and Bobbi leaves the throne room. She’s about to walk away when she remembers. Bobbi turns to the doors of the throne room, and slashes her dagger across the two pairs of snake eyes. She leaves behind two nearly-identical marks in the wood, and another rush of vindictive joy surges in her stomach.

Task complete, Bobbi makes her way back to the spot she had last seen Hunter.

She stops dead in her tracks.

There are three injured guards on the ground, surrounded by a pool of scarlet blood. Not all of it could’ve possible come from them.

The fourth guard is missing.

So is Lance.


	15. of glory and goodbye

She doesn’t have time to panic. Bobbi takes a deep breath, forcing herself to focus. Once she can see past the large pool of blood, she realizes there’s smears of it on the floors and the walls, leading in the opposite direction from where she had come. Another deep breath, and she begins moving again. In addition to not having time to panic, she doesn’t have time to waste.

She follows the trail through the winding corridors of the castle, her heart pounding louder in her ears each corner she turns without seeing Hunter.

The clash of blades rings through the hall, but to Bobbi it might as well have been someone calling her name. She breaks into a run, fumbling to draw her dagger as she does. Bobbi flings herself around the next turn, prepared for the worst.

It’s the worst that greets her. Hunter is backed into a corner, the guard swinging his sword in a series of punishing blows. It’s only because of Hunter’s greater experience that he’s able to hold his own at all, but he looks poorly off, and it’s not getting any better.

Neither of the men have noticed her presence - they’re both too focused on the fight at hand.

Maybe, in another life, Bobbi is the little girl with the dagger John Garrett had seen her as. Maybe in another life she would’ve run away to save herself, and the future of her queendom. Maybe in another life she would have been able to do something fantastic and spellbinding and altogether amazing to turn the fight in Hunter’s favor.

In this life, she is not a warrior, but she is a fighter. In this life, she sees someone she loves in trouble, and she does the only thing she can think.

She hits the guard over the head with the hilt of her dagger. Hard.

There’s a loud cracking sound and the man goes down with a thud, leaving Hunter staring at her with wide hazel eyes.

“Wow.” His whisper is adoring, and the fear that’s plagued her since they set foot in the castle drains from Bobbi’s body at the single word. Garrett is incapacitated, the insurgents are being rounded up, and Hunter is safe.

She can finally think about her future.

Bobbi only manages one step towards Hunter when she remembers the pool of blood. She looks at the body at her feet. There are cuts on his arms, but nothing that would’ve made such a big mess. Which means…

Hunter’s torso is stained crimson. A sob catches in Bobbi’s throat, and she feels like she might be sick. She had been too late. Hunter’s not okay, Hunter’s dying, and it’s all her fault for dragging him along and she  _ can’t do this _ , she can’t lose someone else who matters, she -

“Bobbi.” Hunter’s voice is like starlight, clear and crisp and hopeful. “Look at me, love. Why are you panicking?”

She tries to get words out, but she can’t catch her breath.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she’s dimly aware this is the second occasion when Hunter’s witnessed her on her way to a panic attack. Lovely.

Bobbi manages to reach her hand up, shaking as she points to his blood-soaked tunic.

“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch. Not all of the blood is mine.” He says everything steadily, but it doesn’t make Bobbi feel any better. He could be saying he was fine because he hadn’t gone into shock yet.

“How about you help me downstairs and we can get someone to look at this, huh?” Hunter reaches for her, and it’s by instinct Bobbi reaches back. When his fingers close around hers she’s able to breathe a little easier, but she still doesn’t believe Hunter’s alright.

At least when she’s with him she can try to fix it when something horrible inevitably happens.

“I didn’t teach you that move,” Hunter says as he begins walking down the hall, pulling her along with him. His steps aren’t quite as long as they normally are and his breathing hitches every so often. Bobbi doesn’t know whether to feel triumphant or not. Being right about Hunter being hurt is hardly a victory.

“Hit someone hard over the head isn’t something you need to be taught,” she answers, voice warbling. “He was going to hurt you.”

“Yeah.” Hunter smiles, but there’s a tightness to it. “Guess it’s a good thing I have my own knight in shining armor, huh?”

“I should have come sooner.”

“This isn’t your fault, Bobbi.” They reach the staircase, and Hunter begins down it. He winces with each step he takes, and Bobbi sighs. 

“Here.” She forces his arm around her shoulder. Hunter leans into her, and Bobbi relaxes somewhat. Stupid, stubborn man, refusing to ask for help when he’s in pain.

“It’s not your fault,” Hunter repeats.

“My head knows that, but my heart doesn’t,” Bobbi says after a long pause. “I’m still trying to stop blaming myself for my parents’ deaths, alright? If you had…” She doesn’t let herself finish the sentence. “I want you to be okay.”

“I will be.” There’s no bravado in his words, just pure honesty. “I’ve survived worse, remember?”

“I  _ really _ don’t want to think about you almost being murdered as a child right now, Hunter.” She’s moved on from panic to anger, which is… a transition, to say the least.

“Sorry, Bob.” He doesn’t try to talk again as they finish their journey downward, or when they exit the castle. Jemma, Daisy, Trip, and Mack are all waiting there, and they rush towards Bobbi and Hunter. 

Jemma noticed the bloodstain first. “I’ll go get a doctor!”

She buzzes away and is back right when Bobbi’s processed her absence. The doctor absconds with Hunter, leaving Bobbi off-balance. She turns to her friends, hoping to right herself.

“We did it.” Daisy sounds awed. “We really did it.”

“Sic semper tyrannis,” Jemma agrees sagely.  _ Thus always to tyrants.  _ People like Garrett would always fall; good would always triumph over evil. It’s a nice thought, but it’s not as comforting as Bobbi would’ve hoped.

“Yeah.” Bobbi runs her hand through her hair, realizing belatedly it’s covered in blood. She’s sweaty and dirty anyways, but it feels gross.

“C’mon, girl. You deposed a despot. Smile a little.” Trip slings an arm around her. Bobbi turns into his hold, taking a deep breath as he wraps his other arm around her in a tight hug. “He’s going to be okay.”

“What if he’s not?” She mumbles. Dethroning Garrett will still be a victory, but it’s bittersweet if she doesn’t get Lance too.

“He will be. Bring it in, y’all.” Three more pairs of familiar arms encircle her. It feels like comfort, and safety, and  _ home _ . Her friends are here with her, and she will be okay. It might take time, to feel normal again, but that’s the case whether or not Hunter is alright. Living life on the run and then returning to being queen will never be easy, but Bobbi doesn’t need it to be. She needs it to be possible, and surrounded by some of the people she cares about most in the world, it certainly feels that way.

They stay huddled together for what is probably too long, but Bobbi is having difficulty caring. Like Trip said, she had just ousted a king, and she deserves a break.

“Mind if I cut in?” Lance’s voice breaks through the silence, and the group hug dissolves to allow him to reach Bobbi. Everyone else miraculously finds something to do within seconds, leaving the two of them alone in the center of the chaos.

Hunter’s wearing a new shirt, this one crisp and clean. Before she asks, he lifts it to reveal a neat set of bandages wrapping around his stomach. “Doc said I should take it easy, but I’m fine to ride home.” He drops the fabric back into place.

“I’m sorry for getting angry.” Bobbi shuffles closer to him - probably closer than she should be, given the public setting. “You matter to me and I was scared.”

“It’s alright.” Hunter moves forward, too, winding his arms around her and lacing his fingers together at the small of her back. “I shouldn’t have said it was a scratch when it wasn’t. I can see how that would’ve been scary for you.”

They take a moment to absorb what the other’s said, before Bobbi begins to speak again, tentative.

“You don’t have to go all the way to Aurelie. You can come to Codea.” She leans forward, resting her forehead against Hunter’s. “We’d take care of you.” He wouldn’t have to put so much strain on a new injury, and they’d be able to spend time together properly, without secrets or imminent doom looming over them.

“I know.” Hunter tips his chin forward, pressing a soft kiss against her lips. “But I need to go home, Bob.”

Bobbi knows. Garrett is going to Aurelie, too, and Queen Isabelle deserves to see her husband’s murderer led into the castle by her son. She deserves to see Hunter is safe, deserves  _ everything _ . Hunter needs to be in Aurelie for his mother to heal - for the queendom to heal. 

“Don’t cry, love.” Hunter’s thumb sweeps over a single tear dripping down Bobbi’s cheek. “This isn’t the end.”

“I know,” Bobbi sniffs. If anything, this is a beginning. It still feels like a loss, though. She won’t have the freedom of being on the run anymore (even if it was a freedom with a cost), and she won’t have Hunter by her side. Bobbi doubts Jemma will stay, either - whether to Aurelie or Clipeum she’ll go, Bobbi doesn’t know, but Jemma’s outgrown Codea. 

Everything’s changing again. Even if it’s change for the better, it’s still  _ change _ and Bobbi is a little sick of it.

“We should go,” she whispers. Everyone is still moving around them, packing up horses and preparing to ride. It feels useless to be standing still, holding Hunter, when everyone else is working.

“We have a little more time.” Hunter brushes another kiss across her lips. “I’m not letting you leave until you say you’ll be alright.”

“That’s my line,” Bobbi whispers. Hunter arches an eyebrow at her, and Bobbi sighs.

“First you have to promise me some things.” She steps back so she can look Hunter in the eyes. 

“Anything.” He smiles earnestly at her, obviously pleased there’s something he can do to make her feel better.

“One: promise to write.” Writing isn’t the same as having him there, but the last time they were apart his letters had comforted her when he couldn’t. Hopefully they won’t have to be separated for long, but letters could make it seem even shorter.

“Every day, if you want.”

“Two: promise today was absolutely, positively, definitely, for sure the last time you  _ ever _ lie to me.” The notion he might deceive her again makes Bobbi slightly nauseous, and she wants reassurance.

“On my honor, it is.” Hunter looks like he’s about to get on one knee and swear on his sword or something equally melodramatic, so Bobbi plows on.

“Third: promise you won’t die before I get the chance to marry you.” The last two words are quieter than the others. They’d technically never talked about marriage, even if it is the end goal of courtship.

Hunter doesn’t seem bothered, though - he just hums. “My mother always told me I shouldn’t make promises I can’t keep.”

“Hunter!”

“Of course, Bob. And same to you - don’t die out there.” He closes the space between them, placing a lingering kiss on her lips. “I don’t think I could find anyone else to marry me.” He says the words carefully, reverently, like he’s still trying to test if they’re safe.

“Good. I don’t want anyone stealing you.” Bobbi smiles.

“I think if anyone should worry about stealing, it’s me. I haven’t even officially started courting you yet.”

“And here we are, kissing in broad daylight. The scandal of it all.” She can’t keep a straight face, and Hunter joins in her laughing. The sound of it sends bubbles of happiness bursting in her stomach, and for a moment Bobbi can pretend everything is alright.

“I love you, Bobbi Morse.” The declaration comes seemingly out of nowhere, and Bobbi tilts her head to the side in askance. “Just in case I don’t get to say it again for a long while,” Hunter elaborates. “I wanted to make sure I’d remember telling you.”

The happiness floats away, replaced by the heavy reminder they are leaving - and soon, if the impatience in the air is anything to go by.

“I love you too, Lance Hunter.” This may be her last chance to call him by that name, and Bobbi savors the feeling of it. Lance Hunter, the man she fell in love with.

He squeezes her hand. “Let’s go take on the world, Bob.”

Really, how can she say no to that?

\---

The ride back to Castle Codea is long and grueling, and by the time the castle is in sight all Bobbi wants to do is curl up in a ball and sleep for days. She can’t, though, because she’s not home - not yet.

As they get closer to the castle, Bobbi realizes something: there’s a crowd outside. Her heart sinks. She had feared her reception would be poor, but she hadn’t actually considered what would happen if that was the case. Bobbi looks to Mack, but he seems unconcerned by the crowd’s presence. She opens her mouth to ask him why he isn’t taking them around to a different entrance, but Mack shakes his head.

“Wait,” he says simply.

So Bobbi waits, dread churning in her chest as she gets closer and closer to the edge of the mass of people. Mack’s horse trots ahead of hers, the crowd parting before it. Bobbi’s still in servant’s clothing, and her awareness of her own lack of dress increases tenfold as people reach out to touch her, clamoring and shouting.

It’s not an angry mob, as Bobbi had feared. It’s… a welcome party?

“Queen Bobbi, over here!”

“The queen is back!”

“They say she defeated John Garrett singlehandedly!”

“She’s alive!”

“Welcome home, Your Majesty!” 

People smile up at her as she rides past, and despite her exhaustion Bobbi can’t help but grin at them, too. She lifts her hand, waving to the crowd of people -  _ her  _ people, who, evidently, had never lost faith in her. Her people, who had flooded the streets, waiting to welcome her home. Over the din, a chant begins to arise.

Elena is waiting for her at the castle gates, but Bobbi can barely see her friends through the haze of tears. The chorus that is rising to the sky is one she’d never imagined, but it’s the sweetest music Bobbi’s ever heard.

“Long live the Tyrantslayer! Long live Queen Bobbi! Long live the queen!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last "official" chapter! Watch out for the epilogue later today. :)


	16. of epilogues and ever afters

It amazes Bobbi how quickly her life returned to relative normalcy. There was no transition period - she simply became the Queen of Codea again, with all its boons and burdens. She’s glad of her return, but less glad to have to do with the royal council again. Elena did an admirable job keeping them in line, but they’re still getting used to answering to Bobbi again.

Duke Talbot is lecturing her (she’s only half listening) when a page bursts into the room, wide-eyed and out of breath. “Your Majesty, His Highness the Prince of Aurelie is here for you.” 

Voices rumble around the room, but Bobbi raises her hand to hush them. Hunter hadn’t mentioned a visit in his last letter and she can’t imagined an unannounced visit means anything good, but she can’t have rumors flying. She doesn’t want people assuming Garrett’s escaped from custody or something equally ridiculous and disastrous because Hunter has decided to visit her. Maybe something’s wrong with Trip’s rule in Ceterum? Bobbi doesn’t even know enough to make an educated guess.

“If you’ll excuse me.” She curtsies to the assembled dukes, catching Elena’s eyes for a brief moment before following the page out the door. Elena no doubt has something up her sleeve to distract everyone. If that something is an argument, so be it.

The page leads her to the chamber where Hunter is presumably waiting for her. There’s a guard waiting outside the door, and when Bobbi opens it, he tries to follow her in.

“I’m fine,” she insists before he can take more than a step. She can’t fathom a situation where Hunter would try to hurt her - and besides, she still has his dagger hidden underneath her skirts. It’s not as practical as she would like, since if she’s ever in danger it’ll take forever to actually dig the thing out, but some protection is better than no protection. If all else fails, she can return to her previous strategy of hitting people over the head.

Bobbi steps into the room, letting the door slam shut behind her. Hunter stands before her in his constellation cloak, clean-shaven but otherwise the same as he had been when they parted two months ago.

“Your Highness.” She doesn’t trust herself to curtsy, not when she’s trembling like she is. Bobbi hates decorum now more than ever, because she only wants to fling herself at Hunter and hold him close and never, ever let him go. Daily letters hadn’t been enough.

“Your Majesty.” Hunter manages a small bow.

It’s all either of them can do before they’re pulled in by each other’s gravity. They collide messily, unused to having to deal with Bobbi’s large dress and Hunter’s stiffer, finer clothing, but it hardly matters because they are in each other’s arms for the first time in far too long. Bobbi presses her face into Hunter’s neck, inhaling deeply. He smells different, no doubt because his new station demands different tasks and appearances, but underneath it all there’s still something her heart remembers - something that smells like home.

“I missed you,” she whispers into his skin.

“I missed you too.” Hunter kisses her hair. “Which is part of the reason I came in the first place.”

“What’s the rest of the reason?” Bobbi asks, withdrawing from the hug. “Everyone was worried when a page announced you were here with no warning.”

“Nothing bad,” Hunter assures her. “Just a lot of things I didn’t want to say in letters.”

“...I’m listening,” Bobbi nudges when he doesn’t make any move to say more.

“My mother has a plan for when she’s going to abdicate the throne,” Hunter blurts out. “She wants to give me time to get used to being in the public eye and to learn more about being a king, but she’s ready. She’s fought all her demons and she’s won and she needs to rest.”

“Yeah, she does.” Bobbi runs a hand along Hunter’s smooth cheek, trying to get used to the feel of his skin under her hand instead of the scratch of stubble that had become almost synonymous with Hunter in her mind. “How do you feel about that?”

“I’m scared.” Hunter lifts his shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t know if I’m the right person, but I’m really the only person, aren’t I?” He puts his hand on top of Bobbi’s on his cheek, rubbing his thumb in slow, soothing circles on her skin. His calluses are already starting to disappear. 

“You’re the right person,” Bobbi assures him softly. “You have a good heart.”

“A good heart doesn’t always make a good king.”

“But it’s a place to start.” Bobbi brushes her nose against Hunter’s. “Your mother’s not going to let you drown, Hunter. She’ll be there if you need help. And so will I.”

“That’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about.” Hunter releases her, turning away.

_ Nothing bad,  _ Bobbi repeats to herself. He wouldn’t have held her the way he did if he was planning on telling her he thought this was a bad idea - they were a bad idea. He wouldn’t unravel everything they had, not without talking to her first.

(Apparently, she has abandonment issues she needs to work on. Who’d have guessed?)

“This is for you.” Hunter hands her a package wrapped in brown paper. He had turned away to get it from the small table behind him, Bobbi realizes belatedly. “But don’t open it yet. I have to, um, make a speech, I think.”

Bobbi fidgets with the package in her hands, waiting for Hunter to begin his speech - though why he needs a speech she doesn’t know.

Until he kneels in front of her.

_ Oh. _

“I, Orion, Prince Heir of Aurelie, do formally ask you, Bobbi, Queen of Codea, for your hand in marriage. I ask this not to join two nations, but to join two hearts, because my heart will have none but yours.” Tears prickle at the backs of Bobbi’s eyes, but Hunter’s not done yet. “I was lost for so long, but you found me, and for that I cannot thank you enough.” Tears begin trickling down Hunter’s face, and that’s enough to make Bobbi’s eyes spill over. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, not as Orion, the prince who was lost, but Lance, the man who was found. So I ask you as Lance, as Orion, as any name you will give me - will you be mine?”

Bobbi nods, wiping at her eyes with the backs of her hands. She needs to respond verbally, too, but it’s difficult through her sniffles and the veil of happy tears. “I, Bobbi, Queen of Codea, do accept your offer of marriage.” Her breath hitches and she continues to brush away her tears. She wants to see Hunter’s face. “You are the best thing I’ve ever found or will ever find.” She drops to her knees so she’s face-to-face with her-husband to be. “I love Lance and I will love Orion, because both are  _ you _ . And I want to spend the rest of my life with you, too.”

She drops the package on the ground in favor of seizing Hunter’s face in her hands, pulling him in for a kiss. How is it that Hunter’s lips can taste like hope, like dreaming, like freedom?

One kiss isn’t enough. Bobbi kisses him again, and again, and again, relearning everything she’d swore she’d never forget. Hunter is eager, too, threading his hands through her hair and holding her so close that even when they separate she can feel his breath on her lips. The tears have stopped for both of them, leaving behind nothing but slightly swollen eyes as they stare at each other.

When this journey had started Bobbi never would’ve believed she would end like this, betrothed and happy to be that way. She hadn’t expected Hunter, though.

“We don’t need to get married right away,” Hunter says after a long while of them kneeling together, holding each other. “I know you need time, and I do too, and this has all come remarkably quickly and -”

“Shh,” Bobbi whispers, pressing her finger against his lips. “It’s my job to worry in this relationship.”

“I don’t think so,” Hunter says, narrowing his eyes. “Someone has to look after you or you’re liable to go creating havoc.” Mack would probably agree with him on that one.

“Point.” Bobbi leans forward, kissing Hunter for what must be the thousandth time that hour. “We can wait, Lance. As long as we know what’s coming, and everyone else does too.”

“Speaking of, you really should open that package.” Hunter reaches down to grab it from where it came to rest on the ground. “It’s a symbol of my love.” His nose scrunches. “At least, that’s what Mum called it. I honestly don’t know as much about courtship as I should.” A pretty blush stains his cheeks pink and Bobbi sighs, tracing her finger over the curve of his cheekbone. It seems like a waste of time to stop touching him just to open a silly package.

“Luckily, you only have to do it once, and I don’t care enough to correct you.” Neither of them need to rehash all the ways their courtship was atypical.

Finally Bobbi can’t put off opening the gift any longer, and she stifles a sigh as she takes it out of Hunter’s palm. Twine is neatly wrapped in a bow around the top, which she unravels quickly so she can remove the paper.

“Lance…” The pendant inside is beautiful, made from shards of lapis, amethyst, and crystal artfully arranged to mimic the night’s sky. The chain is made from silver so pale it’s almost white, and it’s the closest man made thing Bobbi’s seen to starlight.

“I thought, um… we could begin and end with stars,” he says awkwardly. “I mean, the first thing you said to me was about my cloak, and I kind of wanted to give you that, except I don’t think you’d have taken it.” He’s right - she wouldn’t have taken one of the last things he had of his father, even if it meant a lot to her now, too. “So I thought I’d give you something more queenly, but kind of the same, too.”

“It’s perfect.” Bobbi can’t decide whether she should look at the gift or at Hunter, so her eyes end up flitting rapidly between the two. “Can you put it on me?”

“There’s one more thing I want to tell you first.” Hunter squirms slightly. “The stars make a constellation.”

“Orion?”

“Yeah.” Hunter rubs at the back of his neck. “When I commissioned it I thought it might be nice, like…”

“Like I’ll always have you with me,” Bobbi finished. She pecks him on the lips. “I love it.”

Hunter’s face breaks into a smile. “I’m glad.”

“Now will you put it on?” Bobbi asks, lower lip sneaking out into a pout.

“Yes, of course.” Bobbi turns so Hunter can clasp the chain around the back of her neck. He doesn’t fumble at all with it, finishing quickly. Bobbi swears he presses a kiss to the back of her neck, but she can’t be certain. She turns around again, settling back onto her heels; her knees are beginning to ache from kneeling for so long.

“There’s something else I have for you, too. Not with me, though - I think it might have made your guards a little antsy.”

“Oh?” Bobbi doesn’t know what else Hunter could possibly have.

“Don’t you want it to be a surprise?”

“No, not really.” She’s had more than enough surprises for a lifetime.

Hunter blinks at her. “You know I can never say no to you, which makes this whole situation patently unfair.”

“You’re going to have to learn sometime, if you’re going to be my husband.” Bobbi doesn’t want Hunter to argue with her, exactly, but she does want him to be able to tell her when she’s out of line. Then again, he already does that - so maybe he just has an issues saying no to her when her requests are reasonable, which is, in fact, a good thing.

“Not today, love.” Hunter grins. “I got you a new dagger. One with both of our symbols.” Bobbi frowns. She likes her borrowed dagger - she doesn’t want a new one. “Just for ceremonial purposes,” Hunter rushes to assure her. “I’ve resigned myself to never getting my dagger back.”

“Good, because it’s not your dagger anymore.” She smiles sweetly at him.

“Fine by me. As long as you have something to protect yourself with.” Bobbi’s first instinct is to roll her eyes, but she suppresses it. Even if she is back in her castle and the threat of Garrett is gone, Hunter’s right in saying she still needs to protect herself. She’s been taking lessons with Mack so if she’s ever in a situation where she needs to fight, she’ll be able to more easily. 

“We should probably leave.” They’ve been alone in the room for long enough unchaperoned Bobbi’s sure tongues are wagging. Everyone will understand when she announces their engagement, since proposals are done in private, but the sooner she can make that announcement, the better.

“Yes, we should.” Hunter steals one more kiss before standing, then offering his hand to Bobbi. She takes it, allowing Hunter to pull her up. She kisses him - as a show of thanks, of course, and absolutely not because she enjoys kissing the man she can now call her betrothed.

Hunter doesn’t release her hand even as they make their way to the door. Warmth rushes through Bobbi. This moment feels surreal, almost impossible. Her queendom is prospering, and the continent is at peace. She loves, and is loved in return.

She is going to live happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks!
> 
> I'd like to take a moment to thank some very special people who made this fic possible. First, Serena ([typosandteabags](https://typosandteabags.tumblr.com/)), who, nearly a year ago listened to me ramble about an idea that came to me in a dream where Bobbi was a queen and Hunter a secret prince. Without her encouraging my rambling this story probably never would've gotten off the ground. Second, Ness ([agentmmayy](https://agentmmayy.tumblr.com/)) who made me some beautiful moodboards that continually inspired me through the writing process, just as she always inspires me with everything she does. Third, Elle ([robotgort](https://robotgort.tumblr.com/)), who is my Huntingbird partner in crime and encouraged me to finish even when I was frustrated, disappointed, or otherwise put down. Last, but certainly not least, thanks to all of you for sticking through this story. I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it. If you're interested in seeing what I'm up to next, you can check out my [tumblr](https://bobbimorseisbisexual.tumblr.com/), where I ramble about writing, Agents of SHIELD, Marvel, and of course Huntingbird. 
> 
> Thanks again. <3


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